At the Beginning
by hansolofan
Summary: Their relationship, like any other, was full of 'firsts'. And 'firsts', they say, are always the sweetest. young Indy/Marion
1. Part 1: First Meeting

This is the first chapter of a 8-chaptered, or more, depending on how much I want to write, young Indy/Marion story, on--you guessed it--the 'firsts' part of their relationship. I think I'll be using different writing styles too, for some. I reckon there'll be first meeting, first date, first kiss, first argument, first confrontation, etc. I might write a R-rated chapter on the first time they made love too (well it's prett obvious they did), but I'm not very sure on that so please tell me if that's what you want to see!

Okay, on with the story, and please review after that!

* * *

**Part 1: First Meeting**

_No one told me I was going to find you  
Unexpected what you did to my heart  
When I lost hope, you were there to remind me  
This is the start_

-At the Beginning (Richard Marx and Donna Lewis)

--

She hurtled up the stairs, barged into her room, and pushed it close with all her might. Then she fell onto her bed, clenched the covers in her fist and screamed and hollered into the duvet.

He ran up the stairs, arrived just outside her room as she slammed the door into his face. He leaned against the wall in resignation and groaned as he heard her scream.

--

_Tea and toast. Toast and tea. Tea and toast. Honestly, did that man never hear of diversity?_

Marion propped her head with her hand on the breakfast table, stirring the lumpy mess of cornflakes in her bowl idly. She was never hungry in the morning, and staring at her father was sometimes rather interesting. she watched as his eyes ran down the page of the newspaper, an imperceptible frown creasing his forehead. He also did that. he always frowned as he read the news, every morning before he went to work. And he would bring that frown with him, lasting on it until he came home, by which time it had translated into giddy excitement at his latest find.

But today it was somewhat different. She just had this hunch…

They were never good things, these hunches.

She mutely spooned some cereal into her mouth, chewing mechanically. It was a Friday, the eleventh of October: she had a presentation today in history class, and a few other lessons, and it was back home again, where she would laze around the house and adoringly wait for her father to return, then sit mutely in an armchair as he spoke for hours on end about his search, the sparkle in his eyes never once diminishing. _Sometimes I just feel this is completely meaningless. _

She glanced at the clock—ohohoh _shit_—and stood up abruptly, grabbing her bag and sliding her bowl to Cook, then raced out of the door, throwing back a 'Bye, Abner!'

Abner suddenly came to life. 'Wait, Marion!' he called. 'My favourite student's coming this afternoon to meet me in the evening, do be hospitable!' Marion hastened to nod hurriedly, then careened off to meet her friends.

--

'Utterly disgusting, some people.' Andrea confided, leaning in to whisper. Marion glanced in the direction of the offending situation, and screwed up her nose in disgust. It was a man and a girl from her school, the Queen Bee Regina Larson, and god, that man was a grown man! She watched with a sort of warped interest as they snogged openly, completely into themselves, and the man's hand sneaked up her thigh, probing under her mini-shirt.

'Urghh.' Marion agreed, somehow unable to tear her eyes away. 'But that man…not quite a total loss.' He was old, not old as in _old_, but older than most of them, and he was dressed in a white shirt and pants. His dirty brown hair was a little too long, but it gave him this roguish look, which she found she appreciated. Now, she couldn't see his face, considering it's engagement in…current activities, but she was sure…_Jeez Marion what's wrong with you! You have better things to obsess about than random (cute) strangers in cafes!_

_Like Abner's new student. _

She sighed, perhaps a tiniest bit more breathily than she had intended.

'Interesting fantasy, Marion?' Andrea grinned.

'No!' she shot back quickly, blushing furiously. 'I just can't stand Abner's students, and he's having a new one over today or something. And he just told me this morning, when I was running late! Horrible, horrible, horrible man…'

'Aw, come on, maybe it'll be a different one this time! One that's not the stuffy suit and tie sort.'

'Nah, they're all like that.' Marion scoffed, wrinkling her nose in derision. 'Then they'll treat me like some retard and act all nice and everything while what they're doing is telling Abner to send me to a bleeding etiquette school!'

'You at an etiquette school?' Andrea snorted with laughter and Marion whacked her arm, laughing. _I have to admit, it's a pretty disturbing image there._

--

He was there.

He was there.

She couldn't seem to get her mind round that fact, because why on earth would that man (_reckless playboy, I heard, but still _completely_ irresistible_) be standing at her front door, in a grey suit and tie (_dear me he has a pretty decent physique_) and a dark brown hat in his hands and the most (_gorgeous_) lopsided grin she had ever seen in her life?

She peered at him through the drapes, narrowing her eyes. That smile…it was no good, she just knew it! And she was terribly busy with her assignments!

She settled back at her desk. It was probably just a prank.

When the doorbell rang again, longer and somehow sounding more insistent (_how can a doorbell sound insistent? I'm swear, I'm certifiably crazy. Must run in the family_), she sighed, and stormed to the door, flinging it open.

The man blinked.

She glared back at him.

'Mighty hostile, aren't you,' he remarked, smiling. Her glare intensified. He extended his hand, unperturbed. 'Hi, I'm Indiana Jones. Abner's student. You're his daughter?'

_Indiana Jones? Ha!_

Only after that fleeting thought crossed her mind did what he said next register in her mind. She stared at him, flabbergasted. 'You're his student?!'

_Well, well, well. Interesting. _

'Yep. Why, is there a problem?'

'Uh. Uhm. No.'

It took her quite a bit of time to realize she was supposed to invite him in, and she was frankly quite alarmed at that.

--

'You look very nice today.' He commented.

Marion turned away to hide the flush in her cheeks and her growing irritation. 'Thank you. However, unlike certain other people, I will not take this opportunity and melt into a puddle at your feet, or fling myself into your arms.' She retorted angrily.

'Jeez, can't you just take a simple compliment?' he sounded faintly annoyed, but he still had that aggravating grin on his face. 'Besides, what makes you think people do that?'

She turned around to face him squarely in the face. _Because I saw you and Larson making out in the café, by the way. _'Bec…nothing.'

He raised his eyebrows at her.

She resolutely turned back to her desk and scribbled darkly. _I hope he doesn't see I'm just drawing random circles. _

'You're a serious little girl, aren't you.' He peered at her drafted report, and she shrieked and pulled it away. The way he said it made it sound disrespectful.

'I am neither serious nor a little girl.' She responded stiffly. _This man didn't know when to stop did he! _He laughed. 'Oh, you're a feisty one there.'

She shot him the dirtiest look she could manage. 'You know what, I've just met you, and I've decided I never want to see you again.'

She smiled smugly as he looked stunned for a moment, and quickly regained his composure. 'Then you'll be disappointed, I suppose. I'll be staying here this summer.'

He'll be _what_?!

He saw the look on her face and chuckled. 'Must've slipped Professor's mind.'

'B—But…you can't!'

'Sorry, do you mind?' he asked innocently, perching on the arm of her chair.

She made a valiant attempt to control her pounding heart, and lashed out at him vengefully, ignoring his yelp of surprise. 'Yes, I do mind, as a matter of fact! Because you are the _hugest_ idiot I have ever met, and I absolutely _refuse_ to believe you're my father's favourite student, because although he is the biggest jerk ever and the _worst_ possible father I used to think he had good sense, but _noo_, maybe not now, after he tells me this morning just while I'm rushing off to school that his students coming for the evening! I don't know about him, but evening usually means, _not_ the whole summer! And you're not like any of his other students, but just as bad, because you're a disgusting playboy and so full of yourself, and urgh!' she spat out, her tone stinging.

He stared at her, his expression a mix between bemusement and astonishment.

_Do not think he looks good like this. Do not think he looks good like this. Do not-_

He grinned.

And that was all that she could possibly take.

She hurtled up the stairs, barged into her room, and pushed it close with all her might. Then she fell onto her bed, clenched the covers in her fist and screamed and hollered into the duvet.

He ran up the stairs, arrived just outside her room as she slammed the door into his face. He leaned against the wall in resignation and groaned as he heard her scream.

* * *

Next up: Part 2: First Date(sort of)

Okay! Thanks for reading, and do review! I'll try to get the next chapter up in a weeks' time, tops, maybe even faster depending on how the response is!

So do review and tell me what you think, thanks!


	2. Part 2: First Date, sort of

Okay, chapter 2! This was incredibly fun to write, tell me if you enjoy it too!

* * *

**Part 2: First Date (Sort of)**

_So she said what's the problem baby_

_What's the problem I don't know _

_Well maybe I'm in love (love) _

_Think about it every time_

_I think about it_

_Can't stop thinking 'bout it_

--Accidentally in Love (Counting Crows)

'Marion.'

'…'

'Mar-rion.'

'…'

'Mare-un.'

'…'

'Marion…'

'Will you just shut up!'

'5 words. A vast improvement, I must say.'

'Jones, will you please stop that? Please? I beg you?' she pleaded desperately.

'If you stop ignoring me.' He replied simply.

'Well, I'm not ignoring you now. In case you haven't noticed, I'm actually talking to you. And facing you. And therefore not ignoring you.'

'You are also trying to wrench your hand out of my grasp.'

'Look, I am not enjoying myself,' she cried miserably.

'I can te—your father's looking here.'

--

'That got your attention pretty fast.'

'You wouldn't know, you don't have a father like him.'

'Says who?'

'Nobody can be as bad as him, he's –' _Shit. _'Hello Docter Crawforl.'

'Marion Ravenwood, queen of subtlety. You better hope that man doesn't know him.'

'Shut up!' she said in great consternation. He did know Abner, obviously.

'You're doing it again.' he said in equal, if not greater, consternation.

'What?'

'Trying to pull your arm out.'

'Clearly because I. am. Not. Succeeding.'

'Look, your father won't hesitate to kill me and bury me under geberras in the backyard with his shovel, all right, if I don't take care of you. And you know what, I think I don't exactly want that!'

'I can take care of myself.' She stuck out her chin obstinately.

'Yes, of course.'

'…'

'…'

'…'

'You are a great idiot at times, Jones.'

'That was completely uncalled for, but nice all the same, thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

'…'

'Do you know, you're so like me it's uncanny?'

'Getting rather chatty now aren't you?'

'Do you ever answer questions?

'Do you ever stop asking them?

'Hmppph!'

'…'

'…'

'Okay, okay, I'm sorry.' He relented.

'Mmm. But apology not accepted.' She examined her fingers idly.

'I didn't ask Abner to do-'

'Oh, calling him by his first name now, aren't you?'

'You see, that's another question.'

'And that's you not answering my question either, okay!'

'Anyway, as I was saying, I didn't ask to be your date tonight-'

'You don't want to be?'

'Ye—No, God, Marion, you don't want to be my date either! You hate me, remember?'

_Well, if only you knew_. 'Yes, but females have the right to be nonsensical, but males, however, should never tell their date they don't want to be dating their date. In fact, if I was really your date, I would be slapping you now! Really hard!'

'…good thing then, that I'm not dating you.'

'Will you just shut up!'

'Back to square one now, brilliant.'

'So it seems now, Mr Glib.'

'…'

'…'

'…'

'…'

'…'

'…'

'I wonder how long we can stay completely quiet.'

'Me: eternity. You: nuh-uh.'

He sighed. 'We should be civil to each other at least, don't you think?'

'I'm sorry, what was that, Jones?'

'Don't call me Jones. Indy will suffice, since you don't seem so keen on almighty-smart-handsome-sexgod.'

'Somehow I don't think that's what you said just now.'

'No?'

'No.'

'Good girl, Marion, you've been listening. I said, we might as well be civil with each other. We're going to be stuck here for 3 hours together, and trust me, I'm no more enthusiastic about that than you are.'

'Okay.' She shrugged nonchalantly, but inside her heart was rhapsodizing.

'Okay, Indy.' He corrected.

She nodded.

'Great. Thanks. Shall I get you a drink?'

--

'Are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere? Why're you holding your hand like that?'

'Yes. It's not as if you leave my side for one moment and I burst and die.' She rolled her eyes, mostly to hide her grimace.

'That's not what I mean.'

She sighed. 'You're right. Sorry. I'm fine, thanks.'

'Should I get Abner?' the faintest hint of a smile twinkled in his eyes.

'Nonononono. Don't you dare! Stay right here. Don't move.'

'Are you threatening me, spitfire?'

'…Yes.'

'Just so you know, I'm shaking in my boots.'

'…'

'…'

'…'

'He didn't…do anything, did he? Bastard.'

'Will you please drop it? I told you, I took care of him.'

'In what way?'

'I…knead him in the…male tools for procreation.'

'Right-o. Poor bastard.'

'Excuse me, how about me now? Poor, young, innocent, traumatized Marion?'

'He just tried to kiss you, not kill you or whatever.'

'…well, you're something, Jones.'

'Indy, not Jones. Honestly, you're just like my dad.'

--

'Let's dance.'

'Wh..No!'

'…'

'You might as well not ask you if you just whisk me off here like that.'

'Being courteous, Marion. Sad thing that youths today lack it so.'

'…'

'What's your favourite colour?'

'Aren't we dancing?'

'Yes. And talking too.'

'Green.'

'Really? What kind of green?' he wrapped his arms around her waist casually.

Her heart jolted. _The green of your eyes when you smile_. 'Uh…Uhm…d..dark green.'

'Like your dress?' he fingered the hem of her dress absently, gazing at her.

Her breath caught in her throat. 'No…no, not exactly. My dress, it has this pale, shimmery quality right? Well the green I mean is richer, deeper, like something that wants to say something to you really badly, but is grappling to find the words to, so chooses to express it in the depths of its swirls? Like…like when you look into a kaleidoscope, the first thing that strikes you is the yellow, or the red maybe, but then you have this reassuring feeling-'

'Are we still talking about green here?'

'...'

'Ow! You're crumpling my suit!'

'Good.'

'Was that on purpose?'

'No, I'm just a terrible dancer—Ow!' she shrieked as he he niftly brought his foot down on hers.

'Good.'

'Sadist.'

'Sorry, what did you say?' Indy smiled innocently.

'Cool breeze.'

'Ah, that's what I thought.'

'…'

'Are you drunk?' he leaned closer to her.

'No.' she replied a little too quickly.

'It's just that your face is quite an attractive shade of red. Are you sure?'

'Y..yes.'

'Am I standing too close to you? Are you blushing?'

'Stop grinning maniacally please, people are staring. And I am not blushing.'_ Just stay calm. Just stay calm and it'll be alright._

'You're right; you're not blushing.'

'Great.'

'But you were.'

'…'

'That hurt! Anyone tell you you have a violent disposition?' he winced.

'Nope, I'll keep that in mind.' She smiled sweetly up at him.

'You act really well too, d'ya know that?'

'Yeah?'

'You seem like you're enjoying yourself.'

She looked away sheepish. 'Well…actually I really am.'

'Me too.'

'…'

'You know, we should do this again. Another day.' His unruly hair fell over his face as he twirled her around.

She grinned. 'Indy, that must be the most intelligent thing you've said the whole night.'

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please review! (once again, will expedite updating process. Not to mention add some colour to the dull canvas that is my life.

Part 3's undecided for now, but will be up in a week tops!


	3. Part 3: First Kiss

**Hahah I am so so sorry about the delay! (wait that didn't sound apologetic did it? Well I am, I promise.) I'll probably be back to weekly updates after this: I know this took 2 weeks oops! But it's rather long so that's my excuse! And I was also preoccupied halfway through with Mortals to Dust, my new Han/Leia fic!**

**Do review as usual, I love hearing from you'all awesome people :D**

* * *

**Part 3: First Kiss**

_It might be a mistake  
A mistake I'm makin'  
But what you're giving I am happy to be taking  
Cause no one's ever made me feel  
The way I feel when I'm in your arms  
_-The Right Kind of Wrong (LeAnn Rimes)

He kissed me.

He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me!

It was the most out-of-the-world experience, ever! (and that's saying something!)

HE KISSED ME!

(and I kissed him back!)

I just…I don't know, this is really sudden considering it seemed just a moment ago when I was smiling at him and clutching at him during that mayan or incan conference, but everything seems so right now. Even though I am acutely aware that I'm Abner's daughter and he's Abner's student, and therefore, nuh-uh. Abner's _favourite _student, no less—and this is just so terribly wrong and I hate to think of the consequence but really, I've never cared. No much point starting now. Because when he kissed me, it felt…gosh, I sound terribly lovesick (maybe I am!) but seriously. It felt like I had been doing that all my life, you know, it had this sort of familiar, tingly feel to it—you know what, why am I bothering, you'd never understand. You're just a plain old diary, so there!

This is positively an important moment in my life! Which is why I'm scribbling this in the middle of the night of Apr 10, which from now on will simply referred to as 'THE DAY', in this diary, which contains this on the first page: 'Hi, new diary. I'm fifteen now, and Dad gave me this for my birthday. I resolve to write in this every single day of my life!' All the subsequent pages are clean and white, by the way. (On a totally unrelated note, I cannot believe I used to dot my 'i's with bubbles.)

Next time, when I'm old and gray and happy with hordes of grandchildren who all have Indy's hair and his smile and his eyes, I'll peer into my large horn-rimmed glasses and squint at this page, and I'd let out a heart chuckle which would baffle Indy, and feel so contented, and pull-

Waitttt.

I've never dreamed of a boy in my life, and now I'm having fantasies of growing old with a man. In case I needed conclusive proof, I really am majorly screwed up.

(but Indy kissed me! So I don't care! Lalalalalalalaaaaa!)

Ah yes. About Abner, that'll probably be a little…problematic. But why am I dwelling on that, I just had my first kiss!

Okay. I need to calm down.

BUT IT'S SO DIFFICULT I'M SO EUHPHORIC AND HIGHHH!

Boy, am I glad Indy won't see this. That'd blow our marriage for sure.

Yes, anyway.

It was dinner here, and he was, well, here, considering he lives here (which is convenient and inconvenient at the same time: Abner loves humming oldies and taking Wrinkes, our resident feline, around the house while scribbling furiously on scraps of paper usually belonging to me, and he has inadvertently ended up standing in front of my bedroom in a vegetative state and giving me the fright of my life when I open the door far too many times. Which pretty much eliminates any future rendezvous in our bedrooms. Bedrooms, teeheehee…

ANYWAY. AS I WAS SAYING.

It was a usual dinner. (read: terrible doesn't even begin to describe it.) I poked and prodded at the meat moodily as Abner gesticulated wildly, yakking about some sort of stone medieval toothbrush or whatever, while Indy was nodding while chewing. (multitasking, that clever man.) Abner was completely ignoring his food. (just like how he treats me, I remember grousing.) and however much I'd love to write I looked into Indy's eyes and could see into his soul and understand them completely, I looked into his eyes, yes, while he was (so chivalrously!) pouring me juice, and I couldn't tell for my life if he was listening to Abner.

(Hmmph.)

And then Abner paused, to breathe for the first time in around 15 minutes. (I often consider him a human submarine.) I was bored stiff, and I had quite an important thing I was absolutely bursting to tell (but I shan't get started on that cos thekiss_thekiss_THEKISS is so much more important) so I quickly swallowed before he got enough air and started again, 'Abner, today-'

'Hang on, Marion, where're your manners, dear? Don't interrupt!' he chided me, miffed.

I flushed. I mean, what sort of father is he? He might as well be a landlord of some sort, provide her clothes, give her food, pretend to love the poor pathetic thing and that's it! 'But, I-'

'Yes, as I was saying, ' he coupled this with a pointed look in my direction, I tell you, I was seething, 'the Aztecs saw it at first, and did you know, the most fascinating thing- '

Pompous bastard. I mean, archaeology was thousands of years ago, how could he find new topics to expostulate on all the time? Can't it be put on hold for his only daughter, or did he have to assure everyone of his _blinding intelligence_? I mutinously chewed my food, but then I felt a hand rest on top of mine (_ohgodthatcannotbeAbner's) _and I looked into the hazel eyes of Indy. He squeezed my hand gently and smiled. Ahhhh it's effect on me was quite alarming: I felt like melting into my soup, seriously, like that time when I was on top of the ridge skiing and I suddenly had so many revelations and newfound love for life. (actually in retrospect, it was kind of…ludicrous. And embarrassing, especially when someone saw me tearing and it was all around school the next day.)

He quickly removed it before Abner noticed. My face was scalding and I smiled back. My heart felt like it had done, oh, about 836264937 rounds around the moon, for gods' sake. All the smiles and winks and very subtle flirting weren't my imagination! Unless, of course, he's just being friendly. Hmm. Maybe that's his way or whatever. I slumped down in my seat, my thoughts a huge mess.

Dinner continued, but as Indy shot me a side glance over his glass I nearly choked. _That _wasn't a coincidence, definitely not. And- I may be reading too much, but it's worth mentioning (you know, maybe at 88 on my deathbed, I will choke out this question. No wait, my last words to him must be 'I love you', that's classic! Unless he dies first, which would be terrible. But if he dies first-)

I'm digressing again oops.

Anyway in response to one of Abner's numerous questions, he said, 'Yes, actually I can understand why he loved her so much.' Only he wasn't looking at Abner, he was looking at me. I blinked as my very athletic heart started doing somersaults and pole vaults.

And it was finally over, and I was just about to dash up the stairs and shut my door and have a nice good mull over this, but Abner shot me another one of his signature glares, so I was resigned to sitting on the first step drawing hearts into the carpet with my toe as Abner clapped Indy on his shoulder and spoke (obviously he spoke. He does little else.) then he beckoned to me, 'Come on, say goodbye to Henry.'

I was stunned. He seems to think I'm, what, five? He had never asked me to 'say goodbye' to any of his students before, not Indy either, and seriously, Indy wasn't going off to Easter Island or the Galapagos or whatever. He sleeps in the room directly above mine! And why did he have to choose now, of all times, with all my confusion and verbal incontinence? I stared at him pleadingly, hoping that with some sort of special karma bond that had never before emerged between us would surface, and he would instantly understand, but _no_. For a moment there I must have forgotten this was _Abner_.

'What on earth are you waiting for, dear girl? Hurry up now!' he said impatiently. Huh. Father-daughter bond indeed.

I stood up quickly and Indy stuck out his hand and I shook it shakily. Then he seemed to change his mind, and he leaned forward and kissed me, on the cheek, swiftly but surely. Abner was positively beaming; it was a tad disconcerting.

But it was a brilliant kiss. His hands had framed my face as he pressed his lips into the hollow near my cheekbone, and I'll admit it: I very seriously considered tilting my head so he would kiss me on the lips. But that would be quite…desperate. Hopefully I'll have more than enough opportunities to do that next time, hahah.

Well you know what, I think I'll go to bed now. Between the entire day and that life-defining-oh-so-wonderful kiss, it's been quite a long day.

---

You didn't really think that was it, did you?

That was just a cursory peck on the cheek between friends, no matter how good a kisser he is, he couldn't possibly cause all this gushing and incoherence and confusion just by that split second of (delicious) contact!

Well. Maybe he could. But he didn't. (not this time)

Because just the next day, we had our very own scandalous, _very_ passionate snog.

It was after a convention again. (I hope we don't have all our moments at conventions, that would get rather old.) Luckily Abner was feeling relatively sane, so I wasn't forced to dress up or have Indy as babysitter. He was bringing Indy around networking or whatever, and I was wandering around aimlessly, bored stiff from drinking cup after cup and smiling at everyone. Then I spotted the balcony and quickly headed to it, but as I drew close I saw Abner and Indy. I instantly turned (not quite sure why I had that reaction: I think I was feeling awkward around Indy. Quite understandably considering paternal relations.) but Abner had seen me and gestured. I groaned inwardly. 'Hello dear, how're you enjoying yourself?'

'So, terribly much.' I replied, my voice thick of sarcasm he obviously failed to sense, as always.

The whole time I was gazing at him out of my peripheral vision, and seriously, he looked so good in his suit! Lots of females were gazing at him with feral expressions, it was pretty obvious (and maddening). His hair was neater this time and his clothes were not creased or rugged as usual, but he still smiled with that lopsided grin and that sparkle in his eyes. He turned slightly and caught my eye. Instinctively I looked away.

He grinned. 'I think you look great, Marion.'

I tilted my head up to gaze at him, smiling faintly. (I'm quite proud I managed to not jump and squeal in joy or something).

Then Abner very rudely and childishly jabbed his elbow into my side jovially and I clutched at it, glaring up at him. 'What do you say now, Marion?'

I grimaced, glancing up at him. 'Thank you.' I muttered. Not that I wanted to look good or anything, nope. He doesn't change anything. It's just…nice, you know?

A waiter walked past and Indy slid two glasses of wine off, handing one to Abner, who was getting quite red in the face. I could hardly care less, he can handle himself. I stared at him drinking hungrily, and was just about to speak indignantly when Abner raised a finger sternly. 'None of that, Marion. Don't start. Ah hello Horatio, long time no see, how're you?' and he was off chattering with this Brit who looked like he had cut his hair with a bowl around his head.

Indy leaned on the rail, the wind ruffling his hair very very attractively. 'Enough of what?'

Did I ever mention how much I love his deep, rugged, husky voice?

'Well…' I sighed pitifully, eyeing his glass. 'He never lets me drink…'

Indy laughed, then shrugged. 'Help yourself.'

I grinned and eagerly gulped down some, clutching my head for a split second as it seared. He quickly pried it away from my fingers. 'Nuh, uh, your dad'll have an aneurysm.'

I pouted, making a grab for it. He swung it out of my reach, laughing. Darn him and his reflexes!

His eyes still on mine, he drank some, then set it down far out of my reach. Hmmpph. I used to be able to sneak sips from Abner's glass. 'How's the torture going?'

'As bad as ever.' I shrugged.

'I guess that's cos I'm not your date this time, right?' he teased. I shot back, 'Yeah right.' (actually it was kind of true. I wasn't about to tell him that though).

He ran his hand through his hair. 'Hey, remember that time we were here?'

'Yeah.' Damn that was the best time I had ever had.

'Did you really mean it? Do you want to go out for dinner sometime? And I mean without Abner, his voice, mention of him, whatever.' He added, swigging from his glass nonchalantly.

I gasped and turned it into a cough quite successfully. I mean, obviously I was going to say yes, I'm not out of my mind, but how? Simper and giggle like the other girls? Am I expected to hug him? Or _kiss_ him? Or should I play hard to get? After all that considering, I manage a pathetic 'Yeah' with a tremulous smile. Real smooth, I know.

I regained my coherence quickly, thank god. 'But Abner can't know, he'd kill me. Jealously protective.'

'Naturally.' He agreed quickly.

For a moment, we were just standing there, on the balcony with muted chatter filtered through the doors, gazing at each other, me in uncertainty, and him in some sort of thoughtful, indecipherable emotion.

Then he strode forward and his hands were framing my face and his thumbs brushed my hair away and he was kissing me. I felt my knees weaken (something I'm quite strangely not alarmed at) but his hand settled around my waist and pulled me to him. I think I was too stunned and numb and confused in the first few seconds to respond (it was just going so fast!) then I decided (oh who cares Indiana Jones is kissing me! Kissing me!) and I kissed him back, wrapping his hands around his neck. His hand moved to the back of my head and he pulled me even closer, and ahhh I felt like drowning and floating at the same time.

His lips were moving against mine, but then in a second they were gone. I breathed heavily, glancing up at him. There was a question on his face…but then I remembered Abner (his student! His favourite student!) and his age and Abner could've seen and how good it felt to have his arms around me and everything that had happened so far wasn't some sort of fantasy of mine, it was serious!

I am so so terribly ashamed of what I did next. I do believe I am scarred for life. It is the most un-Marion thing I've done in my whole life. It's just like a horrid cliché belonging to giggly little girls and spoilt brats and schoolgirls with crushes and sluts trying to be coy.

But I was a girl, in love (if that's what it is), but so terribly confused and troubled at the crappiest of circumstances (I mean, why couldn't I be a classmate? Or a random girl on the bus? Or a friend of a friend? Why the professor's daughter?!) and pleased yet unsure about this completely fantastic gobsmacking brilliant kiss, and so I think you should cut me a little slack here!

Anyway I took a deep breath, opened my mouth speak, but then turned and hurtled back into the room, nearly colliding with the waiter, but grabbing a glass instead and downing it in a shot and running and tripping outside. I heard him call after me but I didn't know what to do didn't know what to say didn't know how to respond.

I found Dad, who took one look at me and become all mother-hen and I sat in the backseat with Indy, sinking it and flushing and ignoring him.

He was at my door just now, around 11 when Dad has passed out on the couch, pounding on it and sounding so desperate but I didn't know what to do. So I screamed at him. I think he hates me now. Great.

And you know what, I see things pretty clearly now. That was the most inexcusable and cowardly escape ever and I didn't mean it. Not to mention that horrible banshee-like shrieking I subjected him to. If I've scared him away I wouldn't be surprised.

Therefore. At 6am, I don't care what time he wakes up, I'm not waiting more than 2 hours and there's no way I can sleep now, I will get out of this room, knock on his door and when it opens, kiss him senseless. And not run away after that. Nor scream at him. Nor slap him or whatever.

I willnotmustnot_cannot_ screw up.

(though um…if he's not wearing a shirt or in a foul mood I probably won't kiss him. Hopefully I won't come to that.)

So it's a plan. Wish me luck! 2 more hours to go!

P.S. How it'd kill Abner to know he had started us off with his 'date'. (though I hope he won't, uh, kill anyone. He's pretty good with that shotgun.)

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**Review yeah? Thanks!**


	4. Part 4: First Real Date

**A/N: More than 1 week, I know. Terribly sorry. **

**I've forgotten where Indy grew up, and for some reason it isn't on his wiki page, and I was thinking maybe Connecticut? But here I used Chicago, if anyone knows, I'd appreciate it if you pm'd me!**

**But anyway here it is, and review please! Thks ;)**

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**Part 4: First Real Date**

_This is the dance for all the lovers  
Takin' a chance for one another  
Finally it's our time now  
These are the times that we'll remember  
Breaking the city's heart together  
Finally it's our time now_

-Our Time Now(Plain White T's)

_---_

[this monologue/soliloquy/brief narration/any other term of Abner's fancy was pieced together laboriously by the author, from scribbles and scrawls from envelopes, the backs (and fronts) of receipts, a ladle from the pantry (with a non-permanent marker, thankfully) and 5 squares of toilet paper.]

I always love days like this, when I can smell the freshly ground coffee beans brewing in the kitchen, mingling with the faint musky smell of all the books and that carpet and the molding wall paper that still looks so good...

…but I can hear Marion, that pesky little girl.

It is so endearing when she smiles though; she has Leah's teeth and smile. Sometimes I see so much of Leah in her that it hurts, but I'd never tell her that. She'd probably hate me even more, if that is even possible.

I have no idea what sort of foolish activity that wild thing's up to now. Anyway my priority for now is to decipher some of the ancient hieroglyphs found on this sceptre; I have not the slightest clue what it communicates at the moment, but the Dean mentioned Prof Dolores Cambry, a learned specialist in Egyptology I myself respect very much, speculated it has to do with the headpiece and dimensions and location of the Staff of Ra, isn't it exciting! Just imagine, news of the Ark inscribed on walls of pyramids! Maybe there're dozens of catacombs with detailed studies and well…details!

Oh dear. My dear little girl appears to be spitting watermelon seeds across the kitchen while sitting in a most unladylike pose on the sink and laughing maniacally at herself. Oh dear.

I do wish she would care to maintain a bit of elegance and decorum. She seems far too free: I must speak to her tutors soon, though they somehow look like they're dying a slow painful death when I'm having the most invigoration chats with them.

I must say, I am flabbergasted. I could accept this, maybe expect it too maybe, of Marion, but Henry?! She must be a terrible terrible influence on that fine young man. at least she isn't laughing to herself, that is a bit of a consolation.

Ooh. Oh dear.

That was most disturbing the way they hurtled (she practically _catapulted_ over the table) at Cook when she came in bearing a large tray full of slices of watermelons. I always knew Cook was a courageous sort, she just swatted impatiently at them. The kitchen is most unsightly and dreadful, I've a good mind to give her an earful! There're so many other things she can do to while away her time. But first I must figure out a way to get through without being accidentally-on-purpose pelted by numerous seeds, like Henry, poor boy.

At least he's not like the other young man Marion knew though, whats-his-name, Albert or Alphelous or Antonio or something. Anyway Marion referred to him as Andy, and I can't for my life begin to imagine why. I was most mortified when he ripped off his shirt and Marion looked stunned. I _had_ to intervene, parental obligation, after all. Though I can't quite say Marion has entirely forgiven me about that.

But at the very least, Marion appears to be warming up to Henry. A very fine young man, lots of potential and calibre, impressive character too. Of course I would appreciate it if he pushed himself a bit more, but his brilliance even at the height of his laziness is astounding.

They seem to be quite comfortable with each other, quite a relief. Last time Marion was positively hostile to dear Professor Bridh, it scared the hell out of him. I don't think I could bear another prolonged sulking or moping session from her, she can be quite melodramatic at times.

Oh no! what have I been doing! I need to get back to Stevenson and Petes' translations and those symbols!

[/end monologue/soliloquy/brief narration/any other term of Abner's fancy]

---

The lone watermelon seed propelled in a straight, doomed trajectory, whizzing past gleaming spotless counters, dots of crimson juice and miserable-looking oval seeds settled in the middle and leaving laughter and two pairs of expectant eyes in its wake. It narrowly cleared the pink plump flesh of the earlobe of a departing man, surged in front of him, ran splat into the whitewashed walls and slid off limply onto the floor.

The quartet of eyes glanced at the man's back for a split second, then focused on the seed again. Then slowly, their gazes lifted, as the man continued his unhurried pace down the hallway, humming distractedly.

Their gazes reflected a bizarre mixture of horror, shock, distress, and for one, a little joy at his seed having gone the further distance. But that joy, of course, disappeared very rapidly.

They exchanged glances and hurried to the door. 'Holy shit.' Indy leaned his head against the doorframe, closing his eyes in defeat. 'We're dead. We're dead. We're so freaking dead.'

'No no no we're not!' Marion added quickly, wildly. 'I mean, maybe he didn't see right?' she slammed the door shut, desperation clear in her voice. 'I mean, he's always wandering around, and he was scribbling all over, he couldn't possibly have noticed!'

Indy raised a sceptical eyebrow at her.

'Really! Anyway he probably doesn't suspect anything, he thinks I'm like _five_, and it's not like this is the first time he's seen me spitting stuff..' she flushed at the memory, and flushed even harder as Indy raised his head and started walking towards her.

She swallowed, sighed, the optimism deadened. 'Indy, what the hell will we do if he finds out?'

He smiled, and smudged away the juice on her lips with his thumb. Her heart was thumping heavily in her chest. 'We'll work it out.' And it is the sound of the confidence in his promise, his hand around her waist, anchoring her to him, his thumbs caressing her cheeks gently, obliterating invisible stains, that reassures her. she tiptoed and kissed him gently, a perfunctory gesture, but before she could pull away, he caught her lips in a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and could taste the musky, fresh smell of him, along with the remnants of their watermelon…incident, and a faint whiff of shaving cream—a smell she could _so_ get used to.

'Good thing he didn't see that, right?' Indy said lightly, leaving his forehead against hers. She smiled, resting her hands against his chest.

She could tell he was thoughtful, from the slightest crease around his eyes, and she knew she wouldn't get anything out of him until he felt like it. She was about to interject when he stated abruptly, 'Let's go out for dinner tomorrow.'

She was halfway through nodding when it sank into her. 'Wha-What?'

'Dinner. Tomorrow. You and me.' He repeated deliberately.

'I heard what you said, idiot.' She whacked his shoulder, trying to ignore the faint warmth spreading through her. _You and me. You and me. You and me._ She took a deep breath; it was tearing her apart. Rationally, she knew what she had to do, but when had she ever been rational? She pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair nervously, avoiding his intense gaze, gripping the edge of the table tightly. 'You can't, okay? I mean, I don't want this! I'm supposed to hate you, Abner just wanted me to be civil, or I don't know, sibling-ish with you, I didn't know I'd…end up kissing you in dark balco-'

'I kissed you, you didn't kiss me.' He corrected helpfully, then withered under her murderous glare. 'Right. I'm sorry. Please go on.'

'I'm…not supposed to be kissing you…kissing you like that and…thinking of you when I'm not kissing you…' he couldn't resist a smirk at that admission, and her eyes narrowed, she flung a wet dish towel at his face. 'You see, when you're horrid like that, I'm…I'm supposed to loathe you. I'm…I'm not supposed to think…think that's the cutest thing in the world.' She finished brokenly, burying her face in her hands.

Indy started to move towards her, but skidded to a stop as she continued in a shrill voice. 'I mean, it's not just obligations, it's just wrong! Nothing good is ever going to come out of this, and I..' she trailed off.

He picked his way around the seeds and watermelon chunks. _It probably wouldn't be a good idea to slip and crack my skull now. _She was breathing heavily. _Please don't be crying. Please don't be crying… _he laid a hand on her arm lightly, guilt and remorse: _She's right. Both of us shouldn't have gotten into this…but she…she makes me never want to stop. _

She didn't move, and on impulse he wrapped his arms around her.

For a moment there she was still, then slowly she twisted in his embrace and leaned into his chest. 'You see, I shouldn't be doing this too.' Her voice was muffled as she clenched his shirt in her fists.

He laughed softly. She was adorable, he had to give her that. 'Can I say something, Marion?'

She nodded slightly, sulking slightly. 'You don't need my permission.'

'Okay. Just making sure.' He sucked in his breath and let it out slowly. 'I wasn't intending to get us into this too. I knew Abner had a daughter, trust me, get him drunk and he tells all, but hell, I'm thinking, chubby girl in pigtails on a swing, or some homely spinster to take care of him.'

She poked him, and he let out something resembling a squeak. 'okay okay. And when I met you, seriously, honestly, pleasedon'tkillme, but I was intending on a fling.' She raised her head and stared up at him, open-mouthed, thankfully, _thankfully_, dry-eyed. 'Wait wait wait, please let me finish. I didn't think I'd like you, and it would be such immense fun to irritate you, as I, erm, realized when we first met. But then, at the ball, at dinner, at the Annual Archaeological Convention on At-'

'What?'

'When we kissed.'

'Oh.' her face flushed and disappeared into the folds of his shirt again.

He smiled. 'all I know now, is that I never want this to stop. That okay with you?'

_Well, when he puts it that way... _'Absolutely.' She lifted her head and offered a tentative smile, a peace agreement.

'Okay, good that we settled that. So. How 'bout dinner?' he had an expression on his face that clearly showed even he knew he was pushing it.

She shook her head slowly, backing away, a wry, resigned smile on her face, but Indy quickly snagged her around her waist, and pulled her to him by her beltloops. She sighed, her hair falling over her face, her mouth set in a firm grim line. _The old Jones ploy, I see._ He kissed her lingeringly on the cheek, and unconsciously she clutched at him, closing her eyes and relishing the sensation.

'Hear me out. You don't have to agree, just let me finish, alright?' he murmured against her neck, and she shivered.

'You're incorrigible.' She accused, feeling rather than seeing him smirk.

'Fine with me.' He levelled his gaze with her, his face tantalisingly close.

She swallowed, meeting his eyes with steely calm.

'We can't help this…shitty damned situation we're in. but we can make the best of it, try to make things as normal as possible.' His nose was just about touching hers, and she could feel his breath on her lips. He knew she was easily distracted like this, _the idiot_. 'Lie to him. I know you've done that before, and you're darned good at it, so just one more time. For us. And I'll fabricate some story, and we'll go out for dinner. Someplace nice. Maybe after that we'll feel up to a movie, and when you're scared I promise I'll allow you to clutch me as much as you want.' She giggled softly, looking down, and he surged on in fervent tones, grinning, 'then we'll com back here, and we'll kiss and wish we had hours and hours more time, and I'll shimmy up, and you'll go in, and we'll dream of each other. well, I'll dream of you, at least.' She smiled, the tension eased, and he took that as invitation to close the gap between them and kiss her briefly. 'Okay?' he asked gently. Beneath all her insistence, he strongly suspected she had a niggling part of her deep deep down that desperately yearned for this as much as he did, but then again had obligation and practicality and guilt and love and stubborn pride pinning it down.

'Okay,' she breathed.

'Great.' He exhaled, relaxing, then pulled away from her and walked around the table, reaching across to pull the half-full plate towards them nonchalantly. 'More watermelon?'

---

I've been in this place for twenty-five years, and I always tell people I've seen everything there possibly is to see.

Because in a restaurant, not to mention one in upstate Chicago, it is like the gathering, the combination of all the people, all the senses, all the emotions. My son, who's a grad student for some goddamn reason wasting my money on studying anthropology in the college 12b blocks down, he likes to call it the Earth of the Milky Way. I laugh, but up til now I'm still trying to figure what exactly that boy's talking about now. It sounds related to confectionary manufacturing industry, but then again that can't be right.

My son…he wanted to continue with this business, but no way is he going to live the same kind of life as his old man, slaving away at plates and food and customers with no end in sight, no satisfaction, no goal, just day after day after day to look forward to. But I love this life. I love grilling steak, I don't mind the perspiration that plasters my shirt to my back and my hair all over the face, I love breathing in the smells of freshly baked bread and pepperonionrosemarygarlic and god knows what else, and, _and_, quite importantly, I love looking at the customers.

I've seen people; that guy who was interviewed for a panel for prime-time tv stopped by her to celebrate, and I gave him his chicken risotto on the house; the health inspector stopped by and I knocked his teeth out, hacked him to death with my meat knife and stuffed him in the cellar (okay. I didn't. but I wish I did.); the guy who had an affair with a congressman and dipped a foot into phone porn came for a salad, and I locked the paparazzi outside and served them pizza; the couple who were joined at the lips; the student who snogged the waitress, Annie, I think, as his girlfriend sipped at clam chowder; the girl who came her alone everyday with books and files and stationary and chatted with us: and when she stopped coming, and we heard it was leukemia, we didn't serve her favourite aglio olio for a week; the old lady who turned her head to wave at the waiter and passed out from an aneurysm; the jerk who released electronic Egyptian scarabs and scared the hell ou of everyone; so many more.

Of course, there are the boring ol' stuff, people come in here, smile pleasantly at each other, order food, engage in conversation, eat daintily, call for the check, collect their coats, leave. But yeah, forget about them.

I've seen men come in here with pale faces and knobby knees and 2 bucks in their pockets, and sidle up to me and plead to 'please please give me some pride'; I've seen first dates, proposals, declarations of all kind (including the rather memorable 'Jill, I have a confession to make. I'm very sorry, but I was the one who ate the last jelly bean'), accepted apologies, rejected apologies (hoho rejected in many many ways too, and on a side note, I hate it when they start throwing food), break-ups, divorces, tears, laughter, smiles, hugs, kissed. Gifts too: expensive, last-minute (i.e. spices stolen from the mens' room or flowers pilfered from the entrance), homemade; sincere, dutiful, reluctant, slipshod; I'm telling you, I've seen everything, man. There's not much you can miss if you've got a keen eye like mine.

But I don't think I've ever seen something like this. they come in, hand in hand, exhilarated and panting heavily and quite wet from the storm, laughing too hard the maitre'd waits bemusedly for a few moments before they calm down sufficiently, and then they are sitting opposite each other in a booth, but she goes over to him, and there they sit, half on each other, arms and legs entangled, smiling and laughing and talking. And they gaze into each others' eyes as the male speaks, then he squeezes her hand reassuringly (I told you I have a keen eye). Then she smiles, a slow sure smile that lights up her entire face, and he laughs, and they kiss briefly, tenderly.

When their food arrives (marinated spicy chicken for him and fettucine for her, great choices), she moves over, and as his hand slides away from hers at the last possible moment, I am rather embarrassed but obliged to admit that my heart broke. Well, I have no idea of their history, but hazarding a guess, considering she's Abner's daughter, they're have to be pretty used to sneaking around, and now's probably the only time they have to themselves, to do whatever they wish, and therefore the clinginess and sticky sweetness they exude.

My curiosity is very much aroused to see them eating absently and engaged in what looks like a very intense conversation.

'You love those clichés? You cannot be serious.'

'No, really, I do! In fact,' a wicked smile spread across her sweet little face, 'I very much would like to try the spaghetti one, that fine with you?'

'You even have to ask?'

And I hurry away uncomfortably as he picks out a strand of noodle of her plate, and she readies herself with her fork, her eyes sparkling, and they begin slurping very enthusiastically.

It was like nothing else existed in their world except each other.

Abner would be appalled, but he's not going to hear about this any time soon.

And then they order every single desert on the menu. And they get water on his jacket and chocolate down her shirt, but I think they were too busy laughing and touching and gazing at each other to notice. And he flirts with Janine for fun, and all of them laugh together as she smacks him on the arm. And he looks at his watch and they exchange glances, alarmed, and he waves for the check while she scrambles around gathering their things, and they run out of the door, she slipping and sliding on the floor but miracolously staying upright because of his hands around her waist, steadying her, and in a few minutes, it's like they were never here at all.

Definitely. I've definitely never seen anything even close to what they have.

* * *

**You know what, my friend was suggesting I continue with 'Then they had their first secret rendezvous, which was awesome, and then they had an argument, and got together again, and then they made out, which was awesome-er, and then they broke up. And 10 years later they meet up, and 20 years later they meet up again. The end.'**

**Not threatening or anything. Yeah. **

**But review! That nice cute new button in the centre :D**

**Edit/ This is NOT the end to At the Beginning (hahah that sounds weird). Yep there'll probably be 4-5 more chapters? And it'll end with Last Meeting of the young Indy era. Well they meet after that but they don't know that right? :D**


	5. Part 5: First Separation I

**Disclaimer (which has been lacking for the last 4 chapters, oops): All not mine, you'd have to be pretty crazy to think it is. **

**Infinite thanks to Kat1021 (I can always depend on you to be so enthusiastic about this), Jac Danvers (I seriously respect you; Curse of the Seven Scorpions is just first-rate!), ditte3 (thanks for the reviews!), Biscuit-Barrel (miss talking to you, Beth :D), AlternativeRocker (great to see new Indy/Marion shippers!), Speedgirl85 (I love your youtube vids!), AtomicRenegade (thanks, here's the next chapter!) and Orangesplot/Westlight (hahah seriously, Westlight?!). Thanks to lurkers too!**

**Review please, I'm a junkie!**

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**Part 5: First Separation Part I**

_It started out as a feeling  
Which then grew into a hope  
Which then turned into a quiet thought  
Which then turned into a quiet word  
And then that word grew louder and louder  
Til it was a battle cry  
I'll come back when you call me  
No need to say goodbye._

-The Call (Regina Spektor)

---

It was a long-accepted routine, without any dispute whatsoever. (even from the particularly difficult daughter in question.)

First, announce you are leaving to some far-flung destination while idling over the task of consuming toast and tea.

Second, stay holed up in the musty study pondering over tomes and scriptures and reports, while ignoring biological (unfortunatelty, there's no way around it) daughters' rants and incessant banging and pounding on the door. This is relatively easy since one is a Abner.

Third, when daughter approaches face to face to 'calmly talk this over', listen intently (well at least appear to while actually mulling over expedition plans, as hell hath no fury for a woman scorned, or ignored in this case), then reply, with maddening absolution, 'No.' if mixture is lumpy and includes fuming and/or melodrama or tearfulness, explain rationale: families should stay together, she cannot remain alone, blah blah. If mixture churns with alarming speed and power and seems quite definitely spicy, use the I-love-you-it's-for-your-own-good age-old ploy, and scram before it blows up. Leave for a few hours to simmer.

Fourth, daughter will slump and mope in room. Ignore.

Fifth, daughter will determinedly not pack, until 10 minutes before, at which point she will fling things in and slam doors and scream and slam her suitcase shut. (be careful of your fingers at this point if you are anywhere in her vicinity). At which point she will drag her suitcase into the boot, while grumbling and muttering some choice words you can be sure she never learned from you. Remain silent and idyllic-ish.

Sixth, expect to be stopped halfway through by a shriek/yell/gasp of utter horror as daughter realizes she has forgotten a essential/sentimental/some other object.

Seventh, _obviously_ she will fight to go back and retrieve said object. Word of advice: resistance is futile. Especially do not say you are about to miss the train, as this will only elevate her delight and slow her motions.

Eight, arrive at destination.

Ninth, if daughter refuses to leave the tent ('rotton stinking pile of canvas!') and instead badgers you all day complaining about the heat/cold/food/grouchy people who cannot speak proper grammatical English/lack of a fresh towel, do not be alarmed. That is considered mild. If stronger taste is desired, recommended actions include chirpily reaffirming, 'It builds character dear!' or agree and complain too about heat/cold/food/grouchy people who cannot speak proper grammatical English/lack of a freshly brewed tea and toast; the latter will ultimately result in fingers pointed and insults along the line of 'it's all your goddamn bloody fault!' hurled.

Tenth, try to enjoy your stay, and if you wish to count down, don't use your calendar: if discovered, daughter will give you no end about it.

The thing is, an anomaly existed in this new equation, a certain Henry 'Indiana' Walton Jones Junior is introduced in at step 1, to join the trip, and daughter is replaced by him. Expect all subsequent reactions/actions to be of a more decorous, dignified nature, like singing Irish drinking songs while (quite obviously) drunk, laughing and bumbling with joy at each archaeological gem unearthed, and throwing melted marshmallows at diggers to wake them up for watch duty.

Leave to stand for taste; pleaseplease_please _for the love of god don't serve it shaken or stirred.

--

It's pretty much a typical lunch hour at the university, with all the students smiling around, Heather and Ross as usual joined at the hip and lips, professors expostulating over tea and toast (now Marion is enlightened as to the source of Abner's quirks), waiters balancing teetering trays and hurrying around. I am quite bored, and tired from smiling so much at Abner, who is for some damned reason, unusually ebullient, and that's saying something.

Abner signals for a waiter absently, and one of them practically _waltzes_ up; good god I wonder how much they pay them to act like freaking girls. But Marion (who's beside me, on the pretext that she likes the cushions on this side, while of course overlooking the slightest detail that they have the exact same cushions at Abner's side, and Marion has never been a cushion person anyway, but whatever why do I care _she is next to me_) starts and her head whips around. I nearly dodge her lethal ponytail, but I really really don't like the look of this, because they are staring at each other nonplussed, then he smiles, and I feel the knot on the bridge on my nose tighten and anger flare inside me: but what kind of claim can I execute, when I'm not legitimately dating her?

Anyway he has a large oversized bulbous nose a la pumpkin, and his hair is greasy and slicked down the side. He probably thinks he's smooth. He probably isn't.

He rests his hand on the back of the chair. Who does he think he is anyway?

I lean close to Marion. 'Who is he?' I didn't quite mean to sound so hostile.

She turns halfway towards me (hah!), smiling weakly. 'I used to date him,'

Before you grew up and developed common sense, obviously…

'Abner hates him,'

Understandable. Completely understandable.

'He's a total prick.'

And I try not to smile too widely, but Marion sees and laughs and whacks me on the arm.

Then we freeze and glance at Abner. 'Yes, a bit of jam at the side there, butter not completely melted…' and visibly slump down in relief. That can never happen again, I really need to be more careful.

I rest my hand on her thigh, and I can tell she doesn't much mind my possessiveness.

'Marion, did you hear me?'

Her head jolts up to meet Abner's miffed stare. 'Uh, I think so.' She had always been a lousy liar, but luckily for her Abner was a much much worse lie detector.

'Great, now for this trip,' he's probably talking about the one to Peru, it's immensely exciting! We'll be heading an excavation there on a site recently discovered by some well-diggers, and it pertains to the Ark. It's going to be really great.

'I know you hate these kind of things,'

Eh heh. Not this time; I'll be there baby.

'and there's really no point of going if you're going to be miserable, and make everyone miserable.'

Well she won't make me miser—what?! No point in going?!

'…So you can stay at home this time.' Abner pronounces with a self-satisfied air. I stiffen, all senses on alert at the lovely presence beside me—who, for some reason completely, seems _happy_. And it occurs to me: maybe it's all in my mind. Maybe she doesn't really like me all that much. Maybe I'm just a fling; maybe she does this with all Abner's students, and leaves a lengthy trail of heartbreaks behind her. Maybe I'm just her tool to antagonize Abner. Maybe I've just been so stupid. Too hopeful.

Maybe she's stupid. Maybe she's the one that's hopeful. I might as well test the waters and see. 'So.' I lean forward on my elbows—Abner gives me a disapproving glance and I sit back. Shit, my voice is completely out of my control and evidently strained. 'So she's staying alone here?'

Marion is still pretty much drowning in joy, and for a split second I wonder how long she's wanted this to happen, and feel quite terrible for being the one spoiling it. But the next, I'm wondering how _slow_ she can get, and if I have to knock her over the head with a baseball bat or something.

'Well yes.' Abner delicately nibbles at his toast. 'Cook will be here too, of course.'

She is still grinning toothily, adorably and I glare meaningfully at her. This puzzles her.

She takes her time to realize it, I tell you, but her reaction is downright reassuring. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens and closes for a bit before she asks me directly, 'You're going?' her tone is impressive, very brisk and business-like, but her eyes are telling me another story. _Are you leaving me?_

'Yes.' I speak evenly, neutrally. _God I don't want to but I have to._

'For around 3 months.' Abner adds merrily. I resist the urge to groan. I half expect him to burst into song and rhapsodize his tea and toast any time now.

The smile is all but gone from Marion's face now, and something tells me from the way she's gripping my hand that before that she was imagining romantic rendezvous in the very mysterious Southern American plains. A slight pang in my chest. God, I just wish this situation wasn't so damned difficult, because she deserves so much more than sneaking around and stealing kisses under the staircases.

She looks so utterly stunned and she opens her mouth, probably to launch into some spontaneous protest, but I nudge her urgently and she gets my message: it'll have to wait. She sure as hell isn't pleased with it, and quite obviously, doesn't listen.

She plasters a smile on her face, and I wince half in amusement and mortification at what she's going to pull. 'Actually, Ab-_Dad_, I don't quite mind going; it'll be quite lonesome out there all alone…' she wheedles pretty much, I'll have to give her that. But lonesome? Hahah I thought she could do much much better than that. Also, she's making herself sound like a whore.

Okay. Bad image, bad image.

'Nonsense.' Abner exclaims gaily. 'My dear girl don't worry yourself, I'll be just fine!'

It requires a great deal of self-restraint to keep myself from shoving Abner away and kissing her sadness away.

---

I probably sound like some sick bastard, a cold hard cynic, who doesn't give a damn about his well-meaning mentor and fools around with his daughter. First, not 'fooling around'. 6 months with nothing more than kisses and endearments seems quite the serious relationship, never mind the age and relations and all.

And sometimes I think of what I'm doing and I feel just god-awful. Abner, despite appearances, is like the father I never had: he's basically my dad with a few more decent bits added in. he's a really decent man, he tries so hard, and I really respect him. And I hate being at the receiving end of one of his proud smiles and live with the sickening guilt of betrayal rising. (and sometimes I feel like a prevent in Humbert-style, but of course that's diminished when Marion gives me one of those smiles or kisses me, because face it, no nice girl kisses that way.)

And this is bad for my work. Distracting to no end.

And it eats away at me, my conscience, all the time. I should break it off before it gets too far, because nothing good ever comes out of forbidden relationships (no matter how wildly romantic the notion is).

But I can't, because, at the risk of sounding like a love-sick idiot with a brain made of mush and all things bad, I can't imagine what it would be like without her. I think…I'm not entirely sure, but I _think_…I'm fallen in love with her.

And whenceforth, operation Let's All Go to Peru, or Operation LAGP, is born.

---

Phase 1: Let the old man worry his ass off. 

**Note: this title is coined by Abner's little devil, absolutely nothing to do with me.**

Indiana Jones is just being a weepy coward.

**Hey! I'm not-**

Shut up! Stop snatching my pen.

Anyway, Actions Carried Out

-I have very ostentatiously argued about locks and safety devices within this residence

**You can write in normal English, you know, not Abner-speak.**

Shh! As I was saying, this was done with Cook while Abner was reading the papers. **She also, apparently inadvertently, set off the burglar alarm, smoke detector and almost broke her neck tripping on the welcome mat. **But the thing is I had forgotten Abner reading the newspaper somehow equated to Abner not being present in the room, or this universe. Anyway, it went like this:

'Are you quite sure it's safe and secure here? I mean, with all these stuff, seems good and all, but I'll be all alone, a single person, by myself, with only me, in this house! What if a kleptomaniac and a, a, a sex maniac disables the alarm and climbs over the fence, while avoiding those thingies you put there, and through the…the…cat hole?'

At which Indy just _had_ to add sardonically, which of course, _totally_ helped our case, 'OH yes, and he might set off the stove and leave the windows open, and the vampire bats fly in! Oh no, Marion will suffocate slowly by the gas stove while peacefully asleep, then be eaten by the vampire bats, a fate WORSE THAN DEATH.'

Success: if Jones didn't meddle, it would've worked like a charm. **Yeah you'd like to believe that. **

**In my defense, I couldn't resist. Kleptomaniac AND sex maniac? Cat hole?! **

All entirely plausible.

**If you say so. **

Don't patronize me!

**Of course I'm not. **

**-Anyway, Marion wildly continues, 'And oh dear, Abner, you'll be all alone there! Ind—Henry too!' Obviously Marion has chosen to ignore 2 people=not alone. 'And with no one out there to take care of you two!' I tell you, the thought of Marion playing mother hen almost made me snort, and the crazy girl neatly treads on my toes. **

'**Marion, I'm sure it's safe.' Abner said, taking on the tone he used with difficult students. **I didn't know that, poor them. **Well you're like one: stubborn. Young. Intelligent. **Get on with it, Jones! **Right-o.**

**Anyway she was glaring at me so I had to say something. 'Well,' Seriously, you should learn to give me more notice. I pretended to frown and consider it seriously, all the while furiously racking my brain. And I swear, I didn't think I would come up with something as lame as that. 'Well, I am a bit…fearful of the cold.' **

**Abner smiled kindly at me. Now he thinks I'm a wuss, that's for sure. 'All taken care of, Henry, do not fret.'**

'**And about you, professor? Will you get a little lonely? Maybe we should bring her along?' **Bring me along? I had to sit on my hands to keep myself from slapping you, what do you think I am, a suitcase or a tea-cake?

'**Oh no no no, don't worry Henry, I'll be fine.'**

**Marion was obviously thinking of pushing it, but lucky for both of us, I jammed a muffin in her mouth (Abner wasn't looking) and took care of it. **

Why are we writing this again? **As a record, of course. **Oh fine. You archaeologists, I suppose a 100 years later they'll be delighted at this informative find. **It's for us, not them, idiot. **And I suppose you also—**No, you cannot suppose.**

Did you really think that kiss would hasten me? **Good point. Actually if it had that effect I would be quite worried. **

Why aren't we speaking out loud? Stop that! **Because we are in Abner's liquer closet, and it's stifling, probably not the best idea. No, I won't stop. **

Stop kissing me! I mean, no, don't stop, but uh, yes, hey! We're supposed to RECORD. **Mmm.**

-Anyway the next day, I was rather desperate, and went to Abner's study. As usual, he was completely unaware of my existence until I nicked his magnifying glass, and he looked like a deer in the headlights. 'Abner.' I began solemnly. I felt a huge urge to giggle, and it didn't help the fact Indy was sitting at the shelves and looking up very mischievously at me. **You like that, huh?**

Sefksdnjd

Behave yourself, Jones!

'Yes, Marion.' He said, sounding exasperated and very very tired. I vaguely wonder if he's always had such a enormous nose, then stricken, touch mine in horror. Fortunately it felt normal-sized.

'I think something is going on.' I continued in the most ominous tones, obviously spontaneously. 'It's this…house. Haven't you noticed things? I don't know if it's all in my head, or maybe I'm just stark raving mad-'

'Oh you're not, don't worry.' Indy says in a deep voice, and winks, and I feel my stomach jump. **Ahh, that explains the expression on your face. **

'**-**Regardless, I have to be sure.' It was all spouting out of my mouth naturally, so, well, I let it…spout. 'It's this feeling. Like after I get a tomato juice, with no alcoholic content whatsoever-'

'Does that goes to say other juices have alcoholic content?' Abner interjected, adjusting his eyepiece. He has very beady eyes. I hope my eyes- **They aren't. You've got beautiful eyes.**

Back to this, quick! **You're the one not writing, not me. **

'No.' I replied automatically. Of course they do. 'But this juice…afte I drink it…I get this hazy, groggy feeling…I don't quite…know what it is.'

'The thing is, it scares me, Dad!'

At this point Abner had been quiet for extraordinarily long, and he decided to offer some input by letting out a loud guffaw. Indy actually jumped. **Did NOT.**

'Abner! This is serious! Why don't you ever hear me out!'she made a disgusted noise at the back of her throat and rose, kicking out her chair. 'You know what, forget it, there's no point, you wouldn't care, anyway.' Indy's eyes flashed and he grabbed her hand hurriedly, then letting go as if electrified and grasping her arm instead. **Hang on a moment. Why're you writing in third person? **It's way cooler.

She stared back at him, genuinely surprised, because this had not been discussed at all, and Abner was the one who was supposed to stop her. But then again it was probably a good move considering Abner looked relieved she was leaving, and was actually rummaging around under his desk, probably to find some errant papyrus. He's worse than Dad. 'Marion,' he said gently, looking as if he had no idea what to say and was slowly drawing it out, and I suppose that was the case. **Spot on. **

'Maybe, maybe you should stay. Just tell your father. Professor, you want to hear, don't you?'

Abner looked flabbergasted, then nodded faintly, probably at the death glare Indy was giving him.

I walked slowly back into the room, into my seat, Indy's fingers brushing against mine as I passed him. **And ho ho, she's back to first person again.**

I'm sleepy. **It's 1am. Kinda natural. **

Anyway, I was marvelling how that bit of contact gave me a strange thrill, then I sat back down. 'I think…I have a pretty good idea who it is.' Indy leaned forward, a warning look in his eyes for some reason. 'Abner, I think it…it's Cook.'

Abner froze, stunned, then let out another loud chuckle. 'Okay okay that's enough Marion, you can go now.' He was convulsing with laughter, and Indy stood up and pushed against my back until we were outside, and he shut the door. 'What're you doing?' I hissed. Then he kisses me, pushing me against the wall, then pulls away, winks, and walks back in.

Phase 2: Assumptions, assumptions and more assumptions

**And once again I credit this absolutely magnificent title to Marion's creation. **Oh shut up. **You know, I liked the way you described our kiss. **I kinda prefer the real McCoy. **You know what, so do I. **

Shit, what's---

* * *

**Okay! This chapter's a tad long, so I split it into 2 parts. (also an excuse to use snippets from 2 lovely songs) the second part isn't done yet. But it's all in my head, so yeah expect it soon. **

**for the time being, review!**


	6. Part 6: First Separation II

**Merry Christmas! (if it applies for your time zone anyway)**

**okay here is part II of chapter 5 as promised. Now, it turned out a bit longer than I expected, sorry! But it'd be kinda weird to split part II into two parts. Please read the whole thing; I'd like to think it's worth it (;**

**Thanks to April Princess, Jac Danvers, ziggythebratt, ditte3, IndyJonesLuvr, AlternativeRocker, Kat1021, Westlight, you guys are great. Lurkers, hahah anything I can do to get a review?**

**Review please!**

* * *

**Part 6: First Separation II**

_It can tear you up inside  
Make your heart believe a lie  
It's stronger than your pride  
The trouble with love is  
It doesn't care how fast you fall  
And you can't refuse the call  
See, you got no say at all_

-The Trouble with Love Is (Kelly Clarkson)

---

Abner liked to think he was not a drinking man. But his calm veneer and aloofness concealed his troubles and vulnerability; his only child (like what happened with Leah) was drifting away and doing godknowswhat all the time, funding for the excavation he was co-heading was trickling through his fingers, and he couldn't decipher that damn last symbol of the inscription he had been working on for the better part of the week. And at times like this, when he wanted to feel the burning sensation graze his throat and his mind and vision blur and let pharaohs and arks and staffs and annoying teenage females slowly dim and fade out, the hidden liquor cabinet hidden away in the corner of the library came to very good use indeed.

'Henry?' Abner blinked, and blinked again. Good lord, he hadn't even begun drinking yet and he was seeing his live-in student cross-legged in his liquor cabinet. He felt a dull pain begin at his temples as Henry rose sheepishly, revealing Marion sitting beside him, smiling innocently. 'Marion?!'

Indy helped her up, letting go of her hand quickly, his mind racing. 'Oh, thank God you found us, professor!' he broke into a forced smile. 'I really must apologize for that.' he patted his shirt down, and Marion very primly attempted to mirror his actions while stuffing the sheaf of papers into her jacket. Abner stared; since when did Marion ever care for a little bit of dust? Henry must be a good influence.

'The thing is,' Indy lowered his voice to a conspiracial whisper, 'Marion was reading here on the couch, and then she suddenly screamed-'

'I did not scream,' she contested hotly.

'Oh yes you did. So I came running up, and she told me a rat had gone into that cabinet.'

Abner glanced at the innocuous wooden doors dubiously. As far as he knew, rats didn't have a predilection for alcohol. The fact that it was frequently used by most civilizations to set them on her couldn't possibly do much for their popularity.

'And then she wouldn't rest until I killed it or caught it, so I, er, hunkered down and tried to spot it, but—oh, professor, this is very embarrassing...' Indy bargained, feverishly conjuring various scenarios in his head, shooting a pointed glare at Marion, who was very silently watching him with something akin to amusement.

Abner made a gesture: I couldn't care less, just go ahead.

Marion cut in before he could even begin, a wicked little grin on her face. 'The thing is, when he tried to crawl out, his foot got stuck.' Indy rubbed his ankle, wincing on cue, and she gripped his arm to stabilize him. Her face flamed as she felt the ripple of the muscles on his arm, and swallowed. His face was embarrassed, and he was very much acting the injured egoistic soldier. _But you know, it would be rather cool if he was, then I could rip off the corner of my petticoat and bandage him slowly and tenderly while soothingly…_Marion shook her head violently, her face bright red, and Indy grinned at her knowingly. 'Well Abner, it got stuck, so I thought I would get in and push him out see…'

'There's space in there?' Abner still looked sceptical and he had good reason to be, of course. She had to give him some credit.

'Uhm. Yes. Between his legs.' Marion said without thinking and Indy's eyes widened. She flushed at his suggestive look. 'Uh, no, as in, one of his legs was stuck, you see. anyway that's not important. I pulled his leg out, but he was groaning…'

_If she wasn't talking to her dad, I'd swear she was giving me the come-on. _

'And then the door swung shut and we were locked in.'

'Marion screamed and screamed near my ear,' Indy continued wryly, 'but for some reason no one could hear.'

'What-' for a terse moment they both stared fearfully at Abner as he paused. He cleared his throat and pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples. 'Henry, I'm terribly sorry, my daughter's always getting into trouble and enjoys dragging people down with her.

Marion gaped indignantly, greatly relieved but still alive and therefore annoyed, and Indy responded with an admirably straight face, 'It's no problem, at least she didn't damage any vital part of me.'

'She is right here, for your information,' Marion interjected, her hands on her hips.

Abner and Indy exchanged looks of amusement (how on earth did they slide into these roles so easily?), then Indy cleared his throat. 'Well, it's late, if you'll excuse me.'

Abner clapped him on the back companionably. 'Good night then, Henry. Marion, you run along and wash up too.'

Marion scowled; he was like those dorm mistresses from Enid Blyton books, for goodness' sake. She edged out of the door, angling her back to the door, then Indy shut it close quickly, and they smiled at each other.

'Think he'll notice the scotch whiskey's half full?' he winked devilishly at her.

She groaned. 'You'll never let that one go, will you. No one puts uncorked bottles in the corner where people may sit on it!'

'Then we can safely say he probably didn't see these too.' He wrapped an arm around her waist and reached the other up her jacket, withdrawing the handwritten papers. She averted her eyes, flushing, embarrassed at the response his touch elicited from her.

'Yep.' She smiled nonchalantly back at him.

'And I'm guessing you want to continue?' he waved the papers at her, tantalisingly out of her reach. 'Actually, maybe you'd better go to bed now, I'll tuck you in.'

She struck at his arm, laughing nonetheless. The smile on her face faded and Indy reached for her. 'Hey. We're not done convincing him yet, y'know? Phase A and B mightn't have been the best, but you're not going to give up, are you.' He teased, rewarded by a weak smile. 'And when we're in South America, you can share my camel, and I promise I won't throw you off like last time.'

She turned around quickly. 'Okay, come on, let's finish up,' she murmured sleepily, covering her yawn.

---

Phase B: Assumptions, assumptions and more and more and lots and lots of assumptions

(continuing where we left off before the rude interruption from father figure of doom.)

**Indiana Jones will now be in utter and complete control of the pen, as Marion is easily distracted, i.e. cannot resist his charm (though he doesn't blame her, no no not at all), writes incredibly slowly and often illegibly, and is short.**

**In fact, a testament to the above would be the fact that now the previously demurely yawning female is now crawling all over trying to get the pen. Even though we are on the roof (what can I say, we were desperate), and it is freezing. **

**-Marion, this morning, started packing her things very slowly, methodically, and obviously, including shouts across the hall, 'Cook, did you see my toothpaste and toothbrush set? The ones I bring along in my **_**luggage**_**? For **_**travelling**_**? Especially **_**with Abner to lovely deserts**_**?' and we spent the better part of the morning holed up in her room (excuse: study session) desecrating shopping catalogues Marion somehow unbelievably owned and managed to dig up too from the dump of her bedroom **Oh come on, it isn't that hard. **Hey! Who said you could write in this! **I don't need your permission, Jones. **Y'know, it's not nice to pretend to be asleep on people's laps then suddenly scare the shit out of them by grabbing their pen. **_Wimp. Wimp-who's-afraid-of-the-cold. _

**ANYWAY. We managed to cut-up brochures and pictures and whatever of suitcases, travel packs, south American language guide, South American birthing stone (don't ask me why; Marion's response across the corridor was 'it just might come in handy!' I'd hate to think of the many many implications of that statement.) thermal underwear, universal power plugs (because Marion refuses to acknowledge we will be right smack in the middle of the desert living as nomads with no solid concrete wall in sight), atlases ('in case we get lost.'), plus many other sensible (my suggestions) and bizarre (her suggestions) items. And then she proceeded downstairs and we orchestrated a long conversation across 2 floors. **

'**Did you find the note on the language guide? I need one, cos I can't speak the native south American language!'**

'**There is no native South American language! It's a **_**continent**_**. They may speak French, Dutch, Spanish-'**

'**Okay then we should get books on those! I don't want to be left in the middle of the desert full of diggers with no idea what everyone's saying.'**

'**Okay then, got those. Do you want some on the local fashion too? You're gonna need some cloth to make a turban, or your hair'll get all bleached.'**

'**Okay. I'll get you a tentage guide too: somehow I think you're no natural with canvas stuff heheh.'**

'**Oh shut up Jones. What else do you think I need?'**

'**I think Abner has most of his stuff—ohwait, I forgot about the water skin, whistles, shovels, etc you'll need. But those I think we can borrow from locals. Oh, get some thick pants too: we'll be on camels.'**

'**Well don't underestimate me Mr Jones! I'm a pretty experienced horse rider myself.'**

'**Right.'**

…**so on and so forth. **

**And all dear Abner did, the crazed father and mentor, was to comment mildly, from his vantage point on the couch where Marion was taking every opportunity to accidentally-on-purpose throw the cut-outs onto his head in a continuous shower, 'It's good to see you're helping Henry, my dear. On, Henry? Keep her away from scarves.' Cryptic comment indeed. I've been conjuring various situations involving scarves and Marion but somehow that beautiful she-devil won't tell me anyway. **I. am. Not. **Shhhh. **

**Therefore this didn't work all that well too. But it was fun. And very amusing. **

-Now that I have regained rightful possession of the pen—would you stop struggling! You're messing up my impeccable handwriting. And don't you snort, it's very unattractive. I shall continue instead of this chauvinist pig. Hmmph.

So next it was Indy's turn to approach Abner on the assumption that he had assumed that we would all be going on the trip together. Naturally, Abner assumed Indy knew that I wasn't going along, but a few assumptions don't do us any harm: in fact, I think this Assumption Phase (which was my creation, if I may add) is presumptuous in its own right, but

**Okay sweetheart, we all get your point. Proceed, please. **

Infuriating gorgeous man.

Anyway, it was lunchtime and we were all really tired out from all the cutting and discussions and uhm other things and leaning over banisters and hollering and aiming scraps of paper at Abner, who very patiently just brushed everything aside. And Indy said, 'So. Professor, where's Marion going to stay while we're there?'

'Well, in her bed right here of course. I'd be surprised if there was any other option considering she loathes Emily Post.'

I mean, he's really a bit addled in the brain. We couldn't care less about etiquette classes at this crucial juncture!

There is a beat when Indy acts quite baffled, and for once Abner comes to an understanding. 'Oh dear, she isn't going, didn't I tell you? She'll be staying here.'

'Oh,' Indy was momentarily speechless. 'Oh no, it must have slipped your mind. That's what she wants?'

Normally, I would be most offended at people talking over me like they were doing now, but I have a very understanding and tolerant nature.

'Oh yes.' Abner replied simply.

Indy and I exchanged glances of extreme frustration.

Success of this is therefore also nothing, ditto, zilch. This is getting rather depressing, and all we've gotten from a single day of brilliance at work is a father/mentor who questions our sanity. But then, does it count if his sanity is already in question? Wait but then again, if his sanity is questioned, then he questions our sanity, it clearly shows ours ISN'T in question, but then again-

**I am **_**tired**_**, Marion. Please. **

---

Phase C (written the next day because a certain wimp-who's-afraid-of-the-cold was tired and had to have his beauty sleep. ) **We couldn't possibly have written this yesterday, considering what we're about to write concerns what happened TODAY. Ahh, chronology: the beloved of all historians. **That is completely inconsequential. And didn't I tell you snorting was unattractive? **I doubt there's anything about me you'll find unattractive, Marion Louisa Ravenwood. **Who-what—how on earth do you know my middle name?

**Since she refuses to get to the point, I am forced to once again assert my authority over the pen. That, and I don't exactly want to tell her how I know her middle name. **

Phase C: **Fickle Female inFatuations (I'm sorry, I just had to make it somehow alliterate.)**

Also known as: plan in place as men (coughIndycough) proved to be inadequate in the art of assuming. 

And don't you dare tickle me Jones, it's my turn to write.

**You should know better than to challenge me by now. And, I love it when you call me Jones. Makes me sound…debonair.**

Oh hoho in fact-

**Oh shut up I don't want to hear about being afraid of the cold again! **I'm sorry, Indy, it's just my way of dealing with depression and sadness and gloom and loneliness.

-anyway, while Indy goes to shiver and whimper in a corner and tries to find something in the way of a jacket, I shall detail what transpired this morning over breakfast. (mealtimes are really times of revelations in this household aren't they.)

So, I was buttering my toast and chugging down milk, and said, 'Abner, pass the jam please. Oh, I'll be going with you to South America. Strawberry, not cranberry, I hate it.'

And Abner seriously exploded. 'NO. You are not going, young lady. What are you trying to do, huh?' he jabbed his fork murderously at me and I couldn't help but shrink back a little while Indy choked on his juice. 'Is your main purpose in life antagonizing me? All the time, over these 17 goddamn years-'

It was a bad indication: the extent of Abner's swearing to that point had been 'oh, heck.' And even then he flushed and clapped his hand over his mouth guiltily.

'-I've been bringing you along to the digs. When your mother was alive you were all happy and bouncing around and all, and then after that you decide, that in addition to her absence, you're not going to be there. And of course, how can I allow that? So you come along, and you end up making my life miserable, and I'll admit this, young lady, I was _this_ close to throttling you and packaging and sending you back in cargo. And now, I think you're mature enough, I want to let you get what you want, and oh, _what do you do_? You…rain things down on me the whole day when I'm trying to work, but I don't comment, and now you say you want to go!'

Abner took a deep breath, resolutely looking anywhere but at me, which I'm kind of grateful for considering I'm falling apart in my seat and I don't want to see him trying to conceal his glee. 'You are staying here.' He glared, punctuating every word with a vicious jab of the knife. For some reason, I imagined it being me, like a doll all dressed up to party with Ken but now this green hideous monster was poking holes into me with a toothpick and I couldn't seal them up and blood was spurting everywhere, and I felt myself fading, like on the track of disappearing into oblivion and be forgotten by everyone.

'And I don't want to hear anything else on this!' with that, he stood up, upturning his chair, and strode out, almost tripping over Wrinkles purring on the rug, righting himself pompously and continuing on as if nothing had happened. It would have been comical, if I hadn't been crying my eyes out then. And now.

**Okay, that's enough, I'll write this. Come here, Marion, it's okay. **

**So I stood up, closed the door and just hugged her for a while. It sort of scared me, I'm not all that good with dealing with crying women (and that is the understatement of the century, considering how I am usually the cause of their grief) and I didn't expect her to cry, and it was all my fault. I'm really such an asshole. **

---

Indy set down the pen and paper, wrapping his arms entirely around Marion and leaning against the wall. She sobbed and clung to his shirt, and he rocked her gently as she whispered with numbed lips, 'it's so unfair this can't not work I don't want to stay here how could Abner say all that I feel awful I'm a terrible terrible person'. 'Shhhhh.' He pressed his lips against her forehead gently, marvelling at how small and pliable she felt in his arms.

Indy took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, Marion.' he tilted her chin up, and she looked so hauntingly young and scarred. _And it's all because of me. _He paused for a moment, hesitant. What would he say? What _could_ he say, to help her? _Even though all these things are happening to us and I'm-damn it- practically tearing a family asunder, I wouldn't give all this up. Because what I have with her—it's special. And I know it's going to go a long way. _

'I'll miss you,' he murmured softly into her hair, a peace offering.

For an instant Marion stiffened, the ingrained fighting spirit protesting against acceptance and resignation, but he ran a hand across her back, 'I'll be thinking about you. Every day. Every minute. Hell, Abner'll skin me with all my daydreams and distracted looks. Fantasies.' He smiled sincerely, touching the tip of her nose, then sighed dramatically. 'It's going to be a long three months.'

At Marion's look of surprise, he felt guilt surge over him. _Oops. _'Abner didn't tell you? Yeah sweetheart, it's for 3 months exactly. It isn't all that long,' he added worriedly, the silence uncharacteristic of her as she chewed on her lower lip.

He searched her eyes for the slightest betrayal of her emotion, whatever she felt…she glanced up at him, and nodded, smiling slightly. 'Okay. Thank you.' She spoke the last part as an afterthought, looking almost surprised at herself. He couldn't help it, he laughed out loud.

'No, thank YOU, milady, you have done nothing but brighten up this…this dreary canvas that is my life. It is YOU, milady-' he exclaimed exuberantly in an atrocious French accent, and Marion chuckled behind her hand, hiccupping slightly, then he laughed too and pulled her to him.

---

Both of them knew this moment would be inevitable, but nothing could make the imminent arrival of it any easier. The door of his room was shut and locked, and a chair was rammed under it ('just in case,' Marion explained), and the room was spartan, empty, listless.

They sat in the middle, the suitcase in front of them, one of Indy's hands resting on it, the other draped around Marion, her back to his chest. Neither of them wanted to move, even as Abner's muffled voice was heard, slightly miffed, 'Henry, are you almost done?'

'I should go.' Indy suggested, glancing warily at the door as Abner dragged his suitcase down the winding staircase, each step marked by a resounding crash.

'Mmm.' Marion acknowledged, making no move to stand up.

He sighed in mock-exasperation, wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her up. 'Okay. I have to go.'

Marion gazed at him, her tongue thick in her throat. She was in a tank top and shorts: her pyjamas she hadn't bothered to change out of, eager to spend every waking moment possible with him. 'You take care. Don't fall off a camel and break your back of something.'

He grinned, his eye sparkling. 'Yeah, you too. Try to stay alive, yeah?'

She elbowed him playfully, rolling her eyes. 'Yeah. Kinda difficult, without you here.' And without warning, she was pulled roughly into his arms and his warm lips descended onto hers, moving against hers, his fingers weaving through her hair, clasping onto her neck and pulling her even closer. She sighed into his lips, pressing herself against him, even as he backed her into the wall. _Good thinking there: I don't think I can trust my feet. _The solidity and feel of him was intoxicating, and her mind her head was reduced to one jumbled quivering pathetic mess. This kiss was different somehow: they were collapsing walls and barriers meticulously constructed, destroying inhibitions and defining boundaries. It felt like the aftermath of a death-defying encounter, with the sheer relief of being alive, goodbye-going-off-to-war (after all, she had heard some South Americans were nastily territorial), first-realization-of-true-love kisses all rolled into one glorious moment of contact. And she felt like she was shattered, stunned, numb, disoriented, as he grasped her shoulders, parting for a brief moment while she strained towards him then capturing her lips in his again. She was breathing heavily, with the lethargy of bliss, like in an exhausted daze, as she gripped him and returned the kiss ardently.

Too soon, she felt his grip slacken and a cool chill: the warmth of his body departing hers \. His hands were still on her waist thankfully, she didn't feel all that ready to stand on her own yet, and slowly, she opened her eyes, breathing raggedly. He was staring at her, his eyes dark and intense, with something bordering on feral and primal in them, and it both thrilled and frightened her at the same time (_Damn, I'm twisted_) Then he looked away forcefully, as if tearing his eyes away, and swore briefly but colourfully. She smiled lazily in spite of it all, her hands still resting on the broad expanse of his back.

He pulled away completely, and she stood up, momentarily winded. Then he swung his bags over his shoulder with a practiced ease, fitted his fedora onto his head, and took a few long strides towards the door, tossing the chair aside. Over there, he paused, and lifted the brim to survey her quietly. She was leaning against the desk, the support more for the bearing to reality than physical. He grinned, a mischievous spark in them, 'Think of me, Marion. Me and nothing, nobody else.'

She opened her mouth to reply, nonplussed, but nothing suitably tender and nonchalant and lingering, and really, she was hardly a master of words.

He smiled, understanding, and tipped his hat at her, and with that he was gone.

She made her way over to his bed. She doubted she'd be able to think of anything else but his smile and his eyes and his arms and his words and oh_god_ that kiss. _I've really got it hard._

She turned over slightly, burying her head into the pillow: one of their house but since he'd arrived, was now infused with his smell, a comforting mixture of soap and sweat and aftershave and something entirely _him. _And she rolled over to lie on her back.

_Just two months, 29 days, 23 hours and 58 minutes more, Marion. Just two months, 29 days and 58 minutes more, and he's back. _

* * *

**Reviews are a great Xmas gift to me :D**


	7. Part 7: First Reunion

**This was, hands-down, the most difficult chapter to writeD: I'm lucky to have made it through. So, review please? I'm quite apprehensive and I'd love some concrit.**

**I love you guys: Westlight (you so have to watch 30rock!), Geeky13 (thanks!), Jac Danvers (Thanks so much! You know I find it kind of hard to believe you're still reading this when you don't 'know' Indy/Marion, but that's a good thing! Reading this, that is.) , Cali Lindsay (sorry to disappoint, I was seriously considering doing a M part for this, but then again I don't think I can make it sound not Lolita-esque, and I'm not about to ruin it :D but hope you enjoy this anyway!), koolioettetheweirdo (thanks! and might I say, cute name!), ziggythebratt (aw thanks, hope you like this too!), Speedgirl85 (great to see you back!), Kat1021 (well you got your wish! Enjoy this one :D), FieryBrunette (thanks, hope you continue with Indy/Marion!).**

**Yes I know Gone with the Wind wasn't out yet if Indy was 27 at the time. But I was itching to include that line! Marion could have felt that way too (I always thought Rhett/Scarlet were the teeniest bit Indy/Marion), or it could be an anachronism, take it however you wish.**

**If you've been reading this, it'll probably be a good idea to check out** _Five Things That Never Happened_**, another Indy/Marion of mine I'm quite happy about, and I'd love to get more comments on! I might not be writing here for a while (school & commitments beckon), so yep I'll be really glad if you'll read my other stuff!**

**Okay, that's enough rambling!**

* * *

**Part 7: First Reunion**

_I love you, please say  
You love me too, these three words  
They could change our lives forever  
And I promise you that we will always be together  
Till the end of time_

-I Love You (Celine Dion)

-

Three months my foot.

He probably just plucked it out of his head or something. Maybe he's going to be gone for three years (ohgod I don't think I would survive, I'd be 20 and oldoldold!) Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he should've been back ages ago but somehow…things happened.

Okay let's not go down that road.

Maybe he's not coming back at all.

!!!

I am such a wreck.

I cannot believe I just teared at that thought. Goddamn Indiana Jones.

And I'm even writing in this stupid diary, just because I'm not going to study (trigonometric equations aren't much easier when all you can think of is that scoundrel and his smile) and I'm so so tired of reading on the porch and tensing hopefully each time I hear tires scrapes against the gravel.

Traitor.

I feel like slapping him hard and shrieking into his face.

And now I feel like kissing him and framing his face and feeling his arms around me…

Maybe I should bake him a cake. He likes chocolate fudge (I think).

...I am such a wreck.

---

Indy tugged at his collar for the umpteenth time, as they crept slowly down the road towards home. Abner was a notoriously slow driver, and it definitely did not help that once in a while he would start nodding and it fell to Indy to stay awake and nudge him once in a while. Not to mention while he was doing that he was having very improper thoughts about his daughter, and trying to shield himself from Abner's occasional unnerving mind-reading skills.

"Henry? You awake?" Abner asked loudly, glancing over at him slumped in the passengers' seat. Indy scowled. If he hadn't been, he would definitely have been now.

It wasn't that he felt any animosity towards Abner, he was fun and knowledgeable, but then again Indy was three days without sleep, and was in the middle of a rather good thought of his girlfriend (Illicit lover?). Well, thinking about Marion just about every waking moment anyway. She would probably pummel him when he got back though: it was two weeks past three months, and he could just imagine her fury. He grinned wryly.

"Henry?" Abner nudged him on the leg.

"Sorry, kind of spaced out there." He sat up, sighing. tilting his fedora away from his forehead and gazing out of the windshield, mentally taking bearings. They were on a long dirt road that eventually led to a town-like establishment a few hundred feet down: probably another hour or so before they reached home.

"I've been meaning to ask you, what do you think of Marion?" Abner asked casually, narrowly swerving from a herd of sheep.

Indy looked up, startled at the sudden question as fear clutched at his heart. Did he suspect something about them? Was he going to confront him, tear them apart? He swallowed, and wondered how long he could keep silent before Abner began to suspect anything.

_Just act normal. _"Well, she's a fine young girl, got lots of spirit in her." he drummed his fingers nervously, desperately racking his brains. "She's got a lot of…you in her." _Great, Jones. Just great. _

Abner beamed. "Yes, she does, doesn't she? I just wish she'll act more like a normal girl sometimes, you know. Care for her studies and boys and all.."

"Does she care for boys and all?" Indy interjected, wincing immediately after. _Could you have asked that any quicker, idiot._

"Oh, I'm not so sure." Abner said airily as Indy tensed. "She had this annoying friend a few years back, I think you saw him at the diner? Never really liked that fella."

Indy murmured indistinctly. His mind was in a different life, a different time, when Abner approved and he courted her without the cover of darkness and guilt and fear.

---

The telegram was the stupidest excuse for one.

THIS IS INDY STOP THE EXCAVATION IS DELAYED BUT ABNER SAYS WE WILL BE DONE SOON STOP I CAN'T WAIT TO BE BACK STOP MISS YOU MARION STOP

No details of reason of delay, where he was when he was sending it, his thoughts on the delay, why he couldn't wait to be back (she would have loved a detailed dissection of this question), etc etc. Abner always claimed her telegrams read like short novels but it was common sense, really. Which the two main men in her life conveniently lacked.

And there it was, the screech of tires again. Marion sighed, not bothering to look up from her arithmetic assignment. Now all of a sudden while she was waiting it seemed her front road was suddenly the equivalent of Route 66, and it was driving her crazy.

She listened distractedly, _x squared to the power of 6..considering the sine of angle z…_Then a door slammed shut and she leapt up immediately, her heart thumping. _Was it—was that-_

A loud holler proceeding confirmed her suspicions. "We're back to civ-vil-liz-zationnnnn!"

Definitely Abner. No one else announced their presence with that greeting coupled with an enthusiastic whoop and a prolonged revving of the engine.

She flew down the stairs, almost tripping over the cat reclining on the bottom step, skidding to a stop and flinging open the front door, squinting a little in the bright light. _Was it—was that- _

"Inn-deeeeeeee!" she shrieked, hurtling towards him. He grinned (_ohgod I've missed those eyes_) and waved back with a tanned hand, but when she started towards him with wild abandon he backed away, gesturing frantically, just as Marion saw Abner stroll up the path, staggering with two suitcases under his arms.

_Oops._

Thinking fast, she veered slightly off her original path. "Ab—nerrrrr!" Indy relaxed visibly, evidently hiding a smile as she shrieked again, knocking the wind out of him and the suitcases off his hands, a convincing grin on her face. Abner awkwardly slid his arms around her, and he wondered if it was depraved in any way to be jealous of his mentor.

He could see her face, and although she had a mile-long dazzling smile on her face (that looked very attractive, exactly how he had imagined it digging in the desert, he fleetingly thought), her eyes were on his, and he could feel the melancholy he had not felt in three months (plus excess of weeks) seep in again, and he turned away.

---

In typical Abner fashion, he was most ebullient: from the snippets of which Marion heard when she managed to keep from losing herself in the depths of Indy's eyes, it was a successful mission, and he was especially proud of Indy (but not prouder than he was of himself of course, because that was impossible) because of some medieval sewage discovery or something.

Marion hardly cared.

And then when he insisted they go out 'someplace nice' to celebrate (what exactly, she still hadn't the slightest clue), she thought she would wrench out her hair, but that would be far too dramatic and telling (yes she was seriously considering it) and gsettled for gazing at Indy mournfully. Indy shrugged resignedly and flashed her a quick grin. She felt like smacking it off his darned handsome face.

And then after that, in line with her very enthusiastic welcome of Abner, she was forced to grin and nod excitedly at everything Abner said, and occasionally commented. She thought (hoped) she managed not to make too many non sequiturs, though there was this odd little moment when she replied very simply, 'Yes,' and Abner looked at her strangely and Indy snorted in laughter.

"Now then," Abner let out a satisfied belch, and Marion wrinkled her nose in disgust. And he claimed she had no table manners-well he was one to speak. She fidgeted, annoyed. Cook had pulled her bodily into a skirt and blouse, and she couldn't bloody move. Indy, however, seemed to find it terribly amusing. "I'll go and settle the bill, why don't you two wait outside."

They exchanged flushed glances immediately and scurried out as fast as they could without being conspicuous. She felt a gush of crisp evening air and the vague aroma of boiled apples, and then he was kissing her, wrapping his arms around her and practically bending her over backwards against the wall. She gasped against his mouth in surprise, sliding her hands around his neck, closing her eyes. God, she had missed him. They stayed like that for a moment, arms around each other, then Indy slowly withdrew. She murmured against his chest in protest, but he tugged her hands away insistently. "Another time, Marion." His voice rumbled into her ear. She nodded reluctantly, knowing the truth (and _hating_ it) and let out her breath in a resigned sigh. "I missed you."

He smiled. "I missed you too." He took her hand and she clung on desperately, squeezing it tightly between them, anchoring herself to him.

---

It had been an exhausting day, and overwhelming in a sense. Marion carelessly pulled on a shirt and some pants, then settled into bed, closing her eyes. There wasn't exactly much she could do now considering Abner was awake (and jabbering excitedly to some visitor in the living room who was jabbering equally excitedly and unintelligiby back) and Indy was exactly above her. She stared at the ceiling. It would be awfully romantic if they created some signals, like she could thump on her ceiling there times for "Good night", and "Sweet dreams", he'd say, stamping on the ground.

But Abner was sure to hear, he was exceedingly paranoid about thumps in the night. (Hmpph.)

Before she knew it, she was jolting upright on the bed, glancing blearily around, her senses alert when she heard the sound again, an irregular scrabbling from above. She scrambled off the bed, wildly surveying the room, then grabbing a pitcher of water and, as an afterthought, yanked her pillow towards her.

She breathed heavily, staring hard at the window. The scrabbling sound was louder now, and somehow hesitant. Then all of a sudden a black shape slid in through her open window, and she shrieked loudly, upturning the pitcher of water and swinging the pillow at it with all her might. It bent down, winded probably, and she let out a grunt of satisfaction as she launched her pillow at it again.

The shape choked, and she paused as she recognized that gravelly noise.

_Oops._

She lowered the pillow and tucked the pitcher behind her back sheepishly as the figure rose.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

It was a very unhappy, drenched Indiana Jones, struggling to his feet and removing a stalk of lilies _(what?)_ from between his teeth.

She choked, trying desperately to stifle a laugh at his disgruntled expression.

Granted, he had been expecting a secret rendezvous and he was attacked and soaked.

"Is that a lily?" she asked incredulously, hoping fervently the Egyptian sun hadn't done anything funny with his head.

"Yep. Unfortunately couldn't find a rose." He grinned devilishly. "And you were supposed to recognise me through that."

She snorted through her laughter, trying to ignore the fact he looked devastatingly handsome in the light from the streets. "You think that's funny, huh?" he grabbed her around the waist, tickling her. She shrieked, kicking out at him as she wriggled, laughing uncontrollably.

"You deserved it." She righted herself primly, feeling a surge of annoyance at the memory. "You told me three months! It was three bloody months two weeks ago, can't you count? And that telegram, honestly, did you get some digger to do it for you? No date, no descriptions, how am I supposed to know what you're talking about? –"

As she went about her diatribe, Indy rolled his eyes. She seemed to like launching into these once in a while, and while it was adorable, there were better things to do.

He reached forward even as she continued indignantly, and kissed her briefly.

Her eyes widened as he pulled away. "That's not fair." she pouted, but he could see the hint of a smile on her face.

"What do you think you were doing anyway?" he chortled. "Is that how you defend yourself? Pummel intruders to death? Let them choke on the feathers of your pillow? Lethal. I'm shaking in my boots."

She crossed her arms, trying not to grin. "Oh shut up."

"And the water," he continued, shaking his head slightly as droplets flew off his slightly bleached hair. "Was I supposed to drown in it?"

"You were supposed to catch your death in pneumonia." Marion corrected, dignified.

Indy laughed, and she whacked him in response. He pulled her towards him, and they gazed at each other, growing serious. She kissed him first, shyly, and he caught on, but this was different from their kisses, different from the one they shared three months (and two weeks) ago and had assaulted Marion in her dreams every night, different from all the chaste pecks they started off with. This defied boundaries and defined new ones as a new passion emerged, rough yet tender, ardent yet languid, in love and in lust.

"Wait." Indy spoke softly, pulling away and reaching into his pocket, withdrawing something wrapped in tissue paper. He met her curious gaze and smiled confidently. "This is for you."

She took it from him gingerly, peeling off the paper, revealing what looked like a little holder made out of ceramics, with intricate carvings at the edge and tiny claws at the base. Looking closely, she could make out stars and hearts, intertwined.

"A friend of mine found it, gave it to me, told me to present it to a special someone." He shifted closer, wrapping his hands around hers. "Have you heard of Abelard and Heloise?"

Marion wrinkled her nose, shaking her head, and Indy continued amusedly, "Peter Abelard was a French philosopher, and he was well-educated. He wanted to get to know Heloise, thus got permission of her uncle to tutor her, and moved in with them." _Just like us. _his voice was low, husky, and something about it and his close proximity to her sent shivers up her back. "But she was 20 years younger than him, and her uncle loved her dearly, protectively-"

Why didn't her father ever tell her stories like this?

(_to prevent me from committing the same mistakes_.)

"-and when he found out, he was furious." His voice sounded almost sorrowful now, and she felt a tightening dread in her throat, and glanced at the door furtively. _Just in case_. "To cut a long story, Heloise was forced to be a nun, and Abelard buried himself in being a monk. His last words were 'I don't know.' His remains were secretly given to Heloise and she took care of them before she herself died eventually." He paused. " This…" he weighed the holder on his hand, "was given to me by a friend. An archaeologist. It was given to Heloise by Abelard: some said she stored her love letters in boxes like these."

Marion bit her lip, overwhelmed. "That's depressing." She stated, burying deeper into his arms.

He chuckled. "Yes. But very romantic."

He drew closer and kissed her again, this time more insistent than before, angling his lips against hers, his hands under her shirt, pressing against her back (_he's never done that before…_), lifting her on the balls of her toes against him. And she kissed him back, ferociously.

He pulled away slightly, a question on his face and she stood there, breathing heavily. She could see it in his eyes, and she knew what she wanted. She swallowed, a lump in her throat, and she nodded.

---

She felt herself stirring, waking up again, but somehow she had the most surreal feeling that centuries had gone and worlds had whirred past as she sat up in bed. And then she remembered why, and a slow smile and blush spread across her face. She snuggled closer to the form next to her, closing her eyes again.

He grunted, groggily, and she saw brief disorientation in his eyes for a moment before they lit with recognition, and without warning, he bent down and kissed her slowly.

"'Morning, Marion."

She could think of nothing save from cheesy maudlin lines to reply, so she settled for a contented little sigh, shifting further to lean into his chest.

It was odd, really, how that day felt like any other, when in fact she was waking up with a man in her bed. But it didn't feel wrong. Because they were in love, weren't they? _Well, I know I love him so much it hurts. _And she never wanted him to leave again.

The moment was shattered as there was a loud clanging from what sounded like downstairs, and they bolted upright immediately.

"Why're you still here!" she shrieked, slapping his shoulder.

He ducked, indignant, and smirked. "Well, I didn't think you'd forget, but last night you-"

She flushed and interrupted him. "You're supposed to creep back up by dawn!"

He spluttered, eyes wide. "Wha—since when did we make such an arrangement?"

"No, but that's what happens all the time, idiot!" he scrabbled around for his clothes, yanking them on with superhuman speed as she, the sheet wrapped tightly around her, threw herself against the door just as the doorknob turned from the other side.

---

"Marion?" She latched the door with trembling fingers, calling, "I'm changing, Dad!"

"Very well then!"

She breathed a sigh of relief as Abner descended down the steps, whistling with every stride, and gasped as Indy grabbed her from behind, pulling her half onto his lap, kissing her neck. "Changing, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to push him away. "You _men_. I have to get dressed!" she wriggled half-heartedly as Indy kissed her.

"Henry? Henry?"

"Oh shit." Indy jerked away abruptly, and pushed the window open, glancing down. Marion hopped on her feet anxiously, grinning despite it all. This was exactly how she imagined it would be with Indiana Jones. Not that she had been, you know, thinking about it.

Abner's voice sounded at her door again and she almost jumped out of her skin in shock. Indy was halfway out of the window. "Do you know where Henry is?"

She hopped even quicker from feet to feet, on the brink of panicking. But since they had been together, she had done this a lot, so it was relatively easier. "Why don't you try the kitchen? I'll be down in a moment." She suggested calmly, narrowly avoiding the table, but letting out a muffled moan as her knee smacked against the shelf.

"Wow you're good at this." He spoke from the window.

"I have to be." She smiled warmly, and for a moment they allow themselves to lose themselves in the moment, when Abner's footsteps reverberated past the door again, and Indy scrambled up the window.

Marion leant out of the window, peering out anxiously, not quite sure what sort of sign she was waiting for.

There was a loud thump.

Indy must've taken a nasty tumble.

"Indy?!" she hissed. His head poked out, hair tousled, still grinning.

"I'm fine." Then something seemed to strike him, and he heaved himself over the window again. Marion backed away instinctively to give him space, protesting, "Wha-"

He kissed her soundly on her lips, their usual goodbye kiss, then shimmied back up. "Sorry, I forgot to do that."

She couldn't help the delighted smile that sprung onto her face. "Idiot."

"Love ya." And his head disappeared behind the curtains as quickly as he had uttered that phrase.

_He—what?!_

Abner was pounding insistently on her door again. She tore herself away from the window, still stunned. Well, she would have to deal with that later on.

---

She snuck another glance at Indy across the table, and their eyes met and he grinned flirtatiously. She ducked her head down, warmth spreading through her cheeks. She glanced up at him again, but this time he was peering at her unabashedly and she blushed again, suddenly shy. Then he grinned smugly. _The idiot. He likes making me blush. _Somehow, exasperatingly, that thought just made her face redden even more.

Abner sauntered in, carrying jars of his favourite jam, shooting a glare at her across the table. _Ouch. Someone got out at the wrong side of the bed today. _

And she blushed at the images that thought elicited; Indy grinned on cue.

They ate in silence for a moment, her mouth going through the mechanical motions of chewing. Indy had a bit of jam caught on his lip, and he licked it off.

Oh, what she'd do to be that bit of jam.

--No, she most certainly did NOT want to be jam on Indiana Jones's lips. She didn't want to be jam on anyone's lips. She didn't even want to be jam, for goodness' sake! She wanted to be...everything but it. Anything but it. Why was she even thinking about this anyway?

"Really, Marion, sometimes I just don't understand." Abner spoke suddenly, irritated. "Why can't you be like Henry? Just look at his room, his neatly-made bed, not like yours, such a huge mess, like a hurricane flew through it, huh?" he glanced at Henry for affirmation and Indy hid a grin behind his hand, as he nodded, his mouth full. Marion looked quite horrified.

"Yes, that's right. Marion, I always find it much easier to do things when everything is organized." He declared, in what he knew was a maddeningly righteous voice.

By now, Marion was blushing to the roots of her hair, and he winked cheekily at her. She responded with a savage kick under the table, and he doubled up, wincing, but managing to snag her foot between his. He scowled in pain at her, as Abner absently shook cinnamon into his oatmeal. He vaguely wondered what happened to toast and tea.

Marion shook her foot, glaring at him expectantly. And he saw the perfect moment to reaffirm what he started. Mouthed, "_I love you_."

Marion froze, stared at him, open-mouthed, disbelievingly. She probably didn't believe he had just done that. Smiling tenderly, he repeated the gesture, rounding his mouth over the words such that there was no question about it, no question about what he said, what he meant.

Marion glanced down at her bowl, nonplussed. _What on earth is one supposed to do at an admission like that?_ It seemed to fully register in her head only then, and her lips curled into a smile. _He loves me. _She felt an inexplicable euphoria rise in her chest, and a sense of eager hope and anticipation for the future, for the times she would spend with him, together. And she replied, mouthing out the words so unfamiliar to her, "_I love you too_."

* * *

**So?**

**(Review, in case you didn't quite understand.)**


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